A Ghostly Tale: Spellbound
by jojo-dojo
Summary: Book 1: Kat Harvey, now 15 years old, meets a peculiar stranger-Lucy Gilliam- in the supermarket and she holds some secrets, powers and a past that will change the lives of everyone in Whipstaff forever. If that wasn't enough, Doc Harvey begins to work with the trio to recover the memories of their past, much to their dismay.
1. Chapter 1: An Old Photo

Quick note:

Hey there, reader! Just a quick suggestion of some songs that I listened to while writing that would really fit the mood if you wanna listen to!

~"My Generation" - The Who

~"You're My Best Friend" - Queen

~"Rockin' Robin-Bobby Day" - Various Artists

~"The Seeker" - The Who

I promise they'll different songs. Alright, proceed!

* * *

Chapter 1: Welcome to Whipstaff Manor

"Fellas, I can't tell you how much this has helped me out," Dr. James Harvey said setting a large box down on his desk with a large thump. "I've been meaning to clean out my cabinet's for months now." He said cheerfully. "Ever since you boys got the word out, my office hasn't been vacant since!" He clapped his hands together cheerfully.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," a tall, violet eyed apparition said with a wave of his hand, looking through a large book. "Boys look at 'dis one," he said with a large grin pointing to a picture of a girl with full lips, and dark eyes. "Jeannie Ann Hefner…" Stretch said, his eyes wide. The largest ghost howled at the top of his lungs.  
"Let me get a piece of _that,"_ he hollered.

"She looks like a hot dog kind o' gal to me," the middle one with large buck teeth mused dreamily. James stacked his arms on top of the box and gazed into space.

"Jeannie Ann Hefner," he laughed and shook his head. "We went on a date back in the summer of, what was it…'71?" He smiled.

"Bow-chika-bow-wow, Doc! 'Atta boy, 'atta boy!" Stretch whooped. "Tell me you got to 'da, whata the kids call it," he formed his hand into a bat and Stinkie threw a baseball at him. "Third base?" He and the other two cackled loudly. He swung and the baseball flew out the window making a glass shattering sound. Dr. Harvey blushed furiously and waved his hands.

"No, no, no. Nothing like that." he said. "She lost a bet…" he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly

Stretch, Stinkie and Fatso lost their heads, raging with laughter, Stinkie melting into a puddle of his own tears. Literally.

"'Dem fleshie dames ain't no good anyways, Doc. Too lively for my taste." He looked at his fingernails. "Don't waste ya time on 'em."

"Am I detecting some resentment, there Stretch?" James asked, his voice getting a little serious.

"What da hell is that supposed to mean? I ain't had the least bit of trouble with the ladies," he said, smirking. "Can't say the same for these bozos," He said, elbowing Fatso and punching Stinkie on the shoulder. Stinkie shrugged and smiled innocently.

"One dame get's too close to Stink ova here and she goes a' runnin' for da hills." Stretch laughed.

"For the hills! Screamin'!" Fatso said laughing loudly.

"Who me?" He said putting a finger to his mouth and one behind his back. "Them dames just didn't know a good belch or fart when they hear one," He said putting one finger in the air.

"Now Fatso," Stretch said patting is brother's head, "Fatso ova' 'ere will swallow his goddamn date whole," he laughed, while Stinky pointed and rolled over in the air. Stretch turned a few more pages before gasping and slamming his finger onto one of the pages titled, 'Senior Year Graduates'.

"Oh shit!" Stretch yelled. "I found da mothaload," he ran his finger through the many names, turning a few more pages and laughing at the dramatic pictures of the seniors.

"And look who we got 'ere…" He said holding up the book with a picture of Dr. Harvey in his senior school year. He saw the picture and rushed to get it from Stretch. "Nope, nuh uh." Stretch, Stinkie and Fatso gathered around the picture as James tried to retrieve it from below their tails.

"Oh come on, let us get a good look," Fatso said laughing.

"Yeah, yeah. You was one handsome devil der, Doc." Stretch laughed.

"Wait a minute." Stinkie scrunched up his face in confusion. "Doc, you don't got no red freckles!" Stinkie said.

"Thoze, a' pimples ya dipshit," Stretch banged his brother on the back of the head with one whack with the year book.

"Oh for the love of," James said throwing his hands in the air. "I need to get more boxes anyways," he said. While the ghostly trio snickered at his old, embarrassing high school and college photos, James surveyed the area and eyed the mysterious cubed in the corner of the room covered with cobwebs.

"Perhaps I could store patient files in here," He said wiping away the dust and webs. He opened the two large doors and waved away the mildew smell.

"Good lord," He said holding his nose. "So who's up for a little teamwork building activities?" James said rubbing his hands together.

"Damn!" He heard Stretch yell. "Where can I get my hands on a blossom blossom like _that_?" The ghosts laughed and high fived. James rolled his eyes and reached for a box on the top shelf. He stood on his tip toes and eventually lost his balance finding him self on the floor papers, books and pictures everywhere.

"And he sticks the landing!"

"Whoop, whoop, whoop!" They all sang in unison.

"Cabinet one, Doc, zero!" Stinkie cried out with fists in the all said in unison with their hands in the air.

"A little help?" James said from under the heap. The trio lifted him up from under and set him on the ground. James dusted himself off and bent down to collect the pictures scattered across the floor.

He lifted the box and blew a thick layer of dust off the top. The side read, ' _Photographs_ ' in a thin black hand.

"I wonder," He slowly lifted the top and pulled out a large, faded photo. He held it up and squinted, adjusting his glasses. It was brown, old and almost whitened, but he could make out three young men arm in arm smiling stupidly. James's eyes widened and he held the picture up to the three brothers that stood in front of him. In the photo, the largest of the three brothers resting his eight on one foot, was wearing a white button down with slacks and his hair was short but very disheveled. His eyes were large and happy, and his smile genuine.

"Whatcha lookin' at der, Doc?" Stinkie asked tilting his head. James was standing in an odd position examining a photo in awe. He didn't answer Stinkie.

"Amazing…" He said breathlessly. He examined the other two.

On the right was a thinner looking figure with spiky, light brown hair and light brown eyes. His figure was slumped over but his face was bright and young. The one in the middle though, was the most familiar. He had striking violet eyes, contrasting with jet black, messy hair. They seemed to sparkle, with years of mischief behind them almost daring the photographer to move closer. His smile was charming, cunning if you will. He was almost six feet high from the looks of the photograph and a nearby fire hydrant that looked like a measly mouse compared to his long figure.

"What the hell, Doc." Stretch spoke interrupting James's deep thought almost making him drop the picture. "You's givin' me da creeps…" he said eyeing him with a squint.

"Fellas…" James said. "Do you know who these young men are?" He asked. They all swopped over and squinted pushing each other out of the way here and there.

"Damn!" Stinkie exclaimed. "Who ah 'dose handsome devils?" He said.

"I don't know, but the one on the left looks like he could eat a horse." Fatso said. Stretch took the photo and looked more closely. His eyes widened as he realized who just was standing arm in arm and just where they were.

"Holy Mother Teresa. Boys," he said with an unreadable look plastered on his face. "Dis was us, when we was fleshies, air breathers, _bone bags._ Look der —" Stretch pointed. "It's Wipstaff for god's sake!"

"Move it, Stink," Fatso butt bumped Stinkie out of the way and snatched the picture form Stretch's hands. He took one look at the other "fatso" in the photo and looked at his brothers. "Holy shit, you're right." Fatso said. "I remember,"

"I'm as handsome as I remember," Stretch said smoothing his bald head.

"I'm as fat as I remember," Fatso said.

"Look what's done been written on da back," Stinkie said. Stretch cocked his head back and shook his head.

"'June 1st, 1893 — Joseph "Joey", Theodore "Theo" and Vincent "Vinnie…"

"Gosh," Stinkie said. "Fellas, it's slowly comin' back." He said. Stinkie ran his slim fingers across the faded cursive writing.

"Dat day was our Auntie Julia's wedding, see," Stinkie said to James, who was still completely bewildered.

"That crazy old hag, I'd never guessed she'd hitch the wagon in a million years!" Fatso said making them all laugh.

"Member how she used to make us shine all her damn silverware?" Stretch said. He shaped into a very disturbing version of what they had seen their Auntie Julia like. White bun, bright red lipstick and a corset. Stretch spoke in a high pitched tone. "Now boys," He said mockingly. "If I see one more spot on those spoons I'll throw myself out the kitchen window!" They all laughed and huddled together over this shared memory.

James had never seen them be so genuinely happy…Then again, he didn't even know they could remember their past life, let alone a memory so vivid.

"Fellas do you realize what this means?" James cried out his hands in the air.

"No more spoon shinin'?" Stinkie's head popped into vision.

"Uncle Fred threw himself out the kitchen window?" Fatso appeared next to Stinkie. Stretch shot up between them.

"Our Auntie Julia was a bitch?" Stretch asked shrugging.

James furrowed his brow and lowered his arms when he realized they didn't share the same excitement.

"It means," He said exasperated. "If we can get you to remember your past lives, maybe we can figure out why you have yet to cross over to the other side!" He said, smiling widely. "Your unfinished business!" He said hands on his hips. The trio just looked at each other in awe.

Now they really wished Doc hadn't found that old photo.


	2. Chapter 2: Welcome To Whipstaff

Chapter 2:

As Kat walked down the front stairs of Friendship High School (the most unfriendly place on earth) gripping a purple back pack strap over one shoulder she sighed and tucked her hair behind her ears.

"Just nine more months, Kat. You can do it." She said quietly to herself. She walked to her father's old jalopy and unlocked the front door. She slumped in the leather seat and sighed as she slapped her hands on the wheel of the car. She groaned and cursed out loud. She started the car and turned the key, urging the car to start.

"Come on, Betty," She said "You've been running us across the country for years, one trip to the store cannot be the death of you." She said. Finally Betty's engine started and Kat wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead.

Drop. Drip. Drop. Little beads of water splattered on the windshield one by one and Kat smirked.

"Of course, as if the day couldn't get any more gloomy." She said shaking her head. "Dad needs new razor blades, Casper needs eggs and butter, Stretch needs a jar of vaseline…" She counted on her fingers. "Maybe that last one isn't such a good idea." She said frowning.

She drove along the streets of Friendship, Maine as large grey clouds began to surface in the sky. She turned on the windshield wipers as the rain began to fall harder and harder. She pulled into a broken and rotted parking lot of Greg's, the local supermarket that literally had everything from cheetos to garden hoses. Kat ran through the lot and into the cold familiar, florescent lit store. It smelled like dryer sheets and milk; an odd but surprisingly comforting combo for Kat. She grabbed the nearest cart without lowering her sweatshirt hood. Razor blades? Check. Eggs? Check. Butter? Check. Jar of vaseline? Kat sighed. Check. She circled into the nearest cashier lane and picked out a coke bottle from the fridge next to the magazines. She picked up a magazine with Nicole Kidman on the front, flaunting a tight, red dress.

"I'm sorry I don't know why it's not working," A shy, but young voice interrupted Kat's reading. She looked up from the magazine and saw a thin framed girl standing at the cashier, frantically trying to get her card to work. She was wearing a large, army-green coat, muddy leggings, and stained black boots. She looked rugged, her face was thin and her pale, light blonde hair was pulled into a large bun.

"Look, can you just move along, we got other customers to check out." An irritated older woman said looking at Kat.

"Please just one more swipe," She pleading. "It'll work." She said.

Kat looked at her items: wipes, a bottle of water, a tooth brush and a candy bar. Couldn't have been that much. She felt in her pocket for her father's credit card.

"It didn't, hon. Move along." The woman said. The girl wiped her face, and adjusted her coat walking away solemnly.

"Wait," Kat said. The girl turned around to reveal a gaunt, smooth, pale face and two large blue eyes met hers.

Kat awkwardly waved her hand and added her items to the conveyer belt.

"Thank you," She said, relief spreading across her face. "Thank you."

"$21.45," The cashier grunted. Kat smiled, swiped the card and stole a few quick glances at the mysterious stranger. She gathered the plastic sacks and handed the girl her odd stash.

"I'm Kat," She said holding out her hand. The girl looked at it for a moment, and smiled shyly.

"Lucy." She shook Kat's hand. With that she nodded and pulled the collar of her coat up towards her ears and walked out into the rain. Kat frowned and ran after her.

"Hey," She said pulling her hood up. Lucy turned around hands in her pockets. "Do you need a ride or something?" She asked looking up at the grey sky.

"I don't need a ride," Lucy said.

"You can't be serious," Kat said, biting her lip and looking at the car. "Where are you headed?" She said. Lucy looked at her feet and didn't say anything. She was carrying a large suitcase.

"Where are you staying?" She asked. Still no response. "Come on," she held out her hand. Lucy looked at it long and hard. "I promise I'm not some creepy slasher stalker or anything," she said chuckling lightly. Lucy grudgingly took her hand and they ran together to Old Betty.

Lucy barely took up any room in the seat, her frame was so small and boney.

"You really don't have to —"

"Don't," Kat said eyes on the road. "Don't pull that bullshit with me, okay?" She said half smiling. "Really, it was nothing."

After a few minutes of neither of them knowing what to say, Kat glanced at Lucy. "An appropriate response would be 'thank you'," Kat said. Lucy sighed and adjusted her bun.

"Thank you, Kat." She said. Kat nodded and smiled.

The rain made Whipstaff look like something straight out of a horror movie.

"Woah," Lucy almost laughed, but stopped herself. "You live here?" She asked as Kat stopped the car before the large 'W' incrusted gates.

"Yeah," she said tilting her head. "It's not so bad once you get used to it." She said.

"Well that's an understatement, to say the least," Lucy put a hand on her window. Kat pulled the car through up the hill and around the fountain. They walked together up the concrete stairs and through the doors.

"Dad, Casper," Kat called. "We're home." She said throwing her back pack onto the floor. Kat frowned. It was almost too quiet.

"Where is everyone?" She asked.

As soon as they reached the door, the lights began to flicker and the bulbs were buzzing on and off, on and off.

"Oh god, why now?" Kat face palmed and grabbed Lucy's hand. They ran to James's study but the doors slammed with a loud, bang. The entire ground began to shake and the painting on the walls were falling down. There was a large scream erupting from every corner and the organ from behind the door was playing loudly and very off key. A large mass grew and began to swirl into a hurricane of faces, deformed and screaming bloody murder. Kat had never seen such a display before and found herself shaking, unable to make any sudden movements. She glanced at Lucy and watched the blood drain drain from her face, leaving it chalky white. She leaped forward, anticipating the fall, but didn't quite make it in time. Lucy fell to the floor like a rock, her eyes shut and her body limp.

* * *

Lucy started to feel her toes and fingers again, as well as a large pounding in her head.

"She's not dead! Guys she's waking up!" A spunky voice made Lucy's headache even worse and she furrowed her brow;

"Casper shush!" Kat said in a hushed whisper.

"Right," Casper covered his mouth. "I'll go get her a glass of water." With that he fled the room and down the staircase.

"Are you okay, Miss?" Dr. Harvey said tilting his head. Lucy blinked a couple of times and nodded. She propped herself up further on her skinny arms.

"Not the first time I've had a breakdown like that if that's what you're asking." She said with a frown. "Side affects are always migraines and cramping legs. She said with a matter-of-fact tone. Kat and Dr. Harvey just looked at each other.

"I got the water!" Casper swooped in with a glass in his hand and a large smile on his face. Lucy tilted backward with wide eyes.

"Let me explain," Kat said. But Lucy didn't need explaining. She simply closed her eyes and lifted her hand in the air to motion Kat to stop talking. Casper slowly set down the glass on the dresser, not sure how to react to this unexpected guest.

"No," she said. "I'm the one who needs to explain." She opened her large, pale eyes.

"Who are you, again?" James asked squinting. She took a deep breath and looked around, trying to figure out where to begin.

"Well," she began. "That's a very good question." She paused and rubbed the back of her neck. "I guess should start with my name," she grinned sheepishly. "Lucille. Lucille Gilliam…or Lucy for short. Kat came to my rescue over at the supermarket," she said. "I'm…uh…traveling." She said. "I came to Friendship unexpectedly, and I found myself without a place to stay."

"You're more than welcome to our..." James inhaled through clenched teeth. "Ah...Our..."

"Hell house?" Kat interjected.

"Our humble home," James rose his voice above Kat's trying to change the subject. But Lucy was already beginning to feel apprehensive.

"It'll only be for a few days," she gestured frantically.

"Okay," James said slowly. "But more over, you need a place to stay till you get back on your feet. It won't be a problem," He said.

She instantly looked up and smiled. "I can pay you with charms, protection and good luck!"

Kat and James looked at each other. Kat shrugged, her baggy sweatshirt rippling.

"Thank you, sir." She looked down. "And I assure you, I wont be a bother." "Then it's settled," James clapped and rubbed his hands together.

"That'd be cool," Kat laughed nervously. "Casper?" She turned around. Casper hadn't said a word since Lucy had woken up. "Casper…" She said again, nudging his cold shoulder.

"Oh! Yeah, sorry," he shook his head like a dog trying to rid its ears of water. "What were we talking about?"

Kat chuckled. "I'll fill you in later. Come on," she turned to Lucy. "Your room's this way."

"Here, I'll get that," James said, reaching quickly for the enormous suitcase Lucy had begun lugging up the stairs after Kat. James took the handle and almost fell backwards from the weight. Kat rolled her eyes.

"Dad," she began dryly.

"I've got it," Lucy said quickly. She picked up the suitcase with one swift move and a lower grunt.

James frowned as she began making her way up the stairs again, and pinched his forearm experimentally. "Haven't worked out in a while you know, starts to add up."

Kat rolled her eyes and stepped closer. "Where's the 'ghastly' trio?" She whispered. James pulled a face.

"They're…um…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "In the vacuum cleaner…"

Kat raised her eyebrows. "Nice going dad, just make 'em angrier." With that she turned on her heel and left the room with Lucy and Casper. They led Lucy to a bedroom across the hall from her's and Casper's. Kat opened the door beckoned to Lucy.

"Cozy enough?" Kat asked.

"Can you say, 'eccentric enough'?" The moulding on the ceiling was strangely swirled, and a large circular window was opened to the sound of crashing waves out by the bay.

"My father loved building things, he always tried to push the boundaries of what was considered 'normal' at the time." Casper put a hand on the door's red arch.

"I can't thank you guys enough for letting me stay here." Lucy grinned awkwardly, and just Kat shrugged.

"We were all new here once," she said. "After a while, you kinda get used to it." She looked at Casper and smiled. "Come on, Casper. Let's let Lucy get unpacked and settled." Casper stopped mid tracks.

"Lucy?" He asked her quietly.

"Hmm?" She plopped down on the bed.

"Can I ask you something?"

She stiffened for a moment.

"How…how come you aren't afraid of me?" He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. Not that he wasn't grateful for another friend, never had he met someone who didn't scream the minute they came face to face, or…ectoplasm to face.

"Seriously?" She asked. "I was on the verge of peeing myself!"

Kat snorted.

"But…I've grown up with legends of vampires, witches, ghosts… you name it and my family had a story at hand." She put the non shaven side of her hair behind her ear. "My grandma and her family were very superstitious." She explained. "I grew up with stuff like that all my life. I've even had run-ins with ghosts before, myself. But they can't really hurt you…" She looked towards the door. "Most of the time."

"My uncles?" Casper said with a worried look. "They're not so bad when you get to know them." Casper said reassuringly.

"Pft," Kat scoffed. "That's an understatement," she said quietly.

Casper frowned and cleared his throat, looking pointedly at Lucy.

"I mean uh…yeah," she scrambled to amend her jibe. "They're alright…I guess… don't worry, you'll get used to them." "Where are they, anyways?" Casper asked.

Kat widened her eyes and curled her lip.

"Dad put them in the vacuum cleaner again."

"Oh, no," he sighed heavily. "They'll be awfully cranky when they get out of there. I'd better go get dinner started right away!" Casper rushed out the door, making Kat's hair blow back a little.

"Well, if you need me I'll be across the hall," Kat said.

"Thank you, Kat." Lucy smiled.

"You sure you'll be okay?" Kat asked, hand on the knob.

"I'll be fine." She said kindly.

Kat nodded and left Lucy alone to unpack. Lucy fell backwards onto the bed and looked at the ceiling. Now what was she going to do? She had to think of a new plan, and fast.


	3. Chapter 3: Bad First Everything

Okay! You kept reading till chapter 3! Thank you, friend! Here's a few more optional soundtracks. :)

"Riverside" - Agnes Obel

"Don't Let Me Be Missunderstood" - The Animals

"The House of The Rising Sun" The Animals

"Which Witch" - Florence + The Machine

* * *

 _"I won't have you filling her head with these stories!" A tall, thin woman angrily threw a bunch of clothes into an old suitcase._

 _"You mean her heritage! I won't stand for you to take her away from everything she's ever known!" A much older woman said sternly. She had long white hair in a braid, hidden beneath thick-beaded necklaces and shawls. "She can't just leave all of it behind, Blare." The woman's voice softened._

 _"This isn't the life I wanted for Lucille." Blare said, fighting back tears. "I won't let her get caught up in this shit. Not after what happened." Blare pushed her hair back._

 _"It was his time, Blare. You know that," The old woman said. "Besides, Little Moon is gifted, she's special."_

 _"For god's sake don't call her that!" Blare spat. "Lucille. That's the name Greg and I picked out for her. Not your weird voodoo madness. Lucille." She picked up a stack of children clothes._

 _"You can't hide this from her forever," the woman said folding her hands. "What will you do when the summer solstice comes?"_

 _"We'll manage, Cora. We'll move across the country to a fucking farm house in the country if it'll keep her safe." Blare slammed the lid of the suitcase and started on a smaller bag._

 _Unbeknownst to either of them, Lucy sat listening at the door, her knees folded to her chest. She clutched her old teddy bear as silent tears streamed down her soft face._

 _"You can't keep her in the dark forever," the old woman said again._

 _"Watch me." Blare swept up her luggage. "I'm done, Cora. Greg's gone, and it's my fault for being so blind. I appreciate everything you'v done for Lucille and I, but I'm done. Don't follow us, and don't come looking for us, either."_

 _The old woman sighed softly. "Here,"she said. "Take this." The woman took off a white beaded necklace with a charm on the end from around her neck and held it out. "It's a protection charm."_

 _"I'm not taking some cursed old relic. Get it away from me." She began backing up._

 _"You're not the only one who lost Greg, you know." Blare scoffed and threw a t-shirt down on the bed with great force. Pausing, she closed her eyes._

 _"I'm well aware. But he was a my husband, Cora." She said, a little softer._

 _"He was my son. My flesh and blood." Blare didn't move. Cora bowed her head and sighed. "One day," the old woman said pointing. "One day you'll understand. And one day you'll come back, Blare. Little Moon is powerful, I can feel it." She clutched at her shawls. "One day you'll be wishing you'd never left." Tears glittered in her eyes, but Blare just scoffed, her temperament rising again._

"When hell freezes over." She hoisted up her bags and stormed past her mother to fling the door open.

Lucy woke with a panic, her boney hands clutching the amulet that lay on her sweaty chest. She had had that dream again. Each night it grew more vivid. She breathed heavily and wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. She looked down at the amulet and sighed.

"I know, Ona," she said quietly. "I'm trying."

She looked at her shut door. She considered her sweaty palms, and decided to find a bathroom to wash. She began creeping to the door, wincing when the floorboards beneath her squeaked. She opened her door and looked around, still holding onto the amulet for dear life. An opened door down the hall revealed a sink and mirror. Perhaps a hot bath would help her wind down a bit. She slowly closed her door, trying not to be heard, worrying she's wake someone, or something, that she shouldn't.

Reaching the musty bathroom, she looked at herself in the mirror and felt disgusted. Everything, from her long, matted, white blonde hair, to her large pale blue eyes to the pale freckles and she curled her lips in disgust.

She examined her boney figure. Freckles ran along her shoulders, and her bones were showing. She had had a rough couple of weeks before she found a safe, warm and dry place to sleep for the night. Her entire body reminded her of easier days, from the scar on her forehead to the tattoo on her ankle of a small bird. She looked towards the bathtub and began to let the water run.

"Ah, gross," she moaned as murky brown water poured from the faucet. She hit the pipe and it began to run clear. A cockroach crawled out from under the tub, and she smashed it quickly with her foot. "When was the last time they had a maid around here?" She paused. "Oh right." She said chuckling.

Just down the hall lay the three brothers all sleeping like the dead in their dusty, cobweb ridden beds. Stinkie in particular was having quite the fever dream, about all the stinkiest food anyone could ever imagine. He awoke with a start, feeling his face get all flustered and found his long tongue dry as a bone. He got up to go splash some water on his face. He was so dazed, still caught between sleep and wakefulness that as he floated down the hallway, he didn't even bother to use the door.

He flew straight into the room and bumped into Lucy, halfway undressed and about to strip off her bra. Before either one knew how to react they realized the delicate situation. Stinkie had fallen on top of who Stretch had called an "air sucking intruder" who was almost completely naked, and Stinkie's large nose was touching her's. They both screamed and Lucy pushed him off with great force, grabbing a towel.

"Oh my god, oh my god," she squeaked, her face flushed.

Stinkie covered his eyes and cried out. "Oh Jesus Christ, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He yelled, stumbling backwards. When he opened his eyes, a grin flickered across his stunned face.

"Wow-zah," he said staring at her exposed chest.

"Get out!" She shrieked.

"Right. Sorry." Stinkie flew out the door as quickly as he had come. Lucy just stood there, stunned, clutching the towel for dear life and praying to God that what happened, did not happen. Stinkie had fallen to the floor on the other side of the door rubbing his head.

"Wow," he said with bewildered smile. He flew as fast as he could into his bedroom.

"Guys, guys!" He shouted. No movement. "Wake up, ya bastards!" He yelled.

"What da hell, Stink?" Stretch groaned rubbing his bloodshot eyes.

"Yeah c'mon Stink I was just gettin' to the good part of my dream, where I get to bang Nicole Kidman!" He said with his tongue hanging out.

"I got's to tell you's somethin'," He said with a sly grin.

The next morning, the rain had stopped, the thunder quick cracking and the lighting had died out in Friendship, Maine. Casper had flown down to make breakfast early, he had a lot of mouths to feed this morning. Kat came down the stairs in her usual fashion, sitting down at the table and silently began working on the crossword puzzle of the newspaper Casper brought in early that morning while he got started on the pancakes. They both stopped when they heard quiet footsteps enter the room. Lucy slowly walked in wearing plaid pants and a tank top.

"Is it safe?" She asked.

"You betcha! I just to started on breakfast," Casper said flipping a pancake.

"The ghouls of Whipstaff Manor have yet to show their ugly faces yet, so count your blessings." Kat said going back to the crossword puzzle.

"Who you callin' ugly, bonebag?" A loud voice boomed and shook the windows.

"Speak of the devils," Kat said rolling her eyes.

The windows slammed shut and the lights went out in the kitchen.

"And now, our very own," the Trio's voices rang through the air in unison as smoke filled the air and a large spotlight that nearly blinded Kat and Lucy shone on the other side of the table.

"Stretch!" Stretch popped out of the mist with a pop of confetti.

"Fatso!" Fatso fell from the ceiling and stuck a pose in the spotlight.

"Aaaaand Stinkie!" Stinkie twirled into the table and stuck out his tongue.

"And the award for worst morning breath goes to," Stretch said, the lights turning on, windows opening. "Our very own, Stinkie!" Stinkie took a bow.

"Thank you thank you," He said. "Gosh, I shoulduh' prepared a speech." He said high-fiving his brothers.

"Stinky, scary, and ghoulish," Stretch said leaning close to Kat.

"But never ugly." He lowered his sunglasses and smirked. "And look who it is!" He pointed to Lucy. "If it ain't Miss Starr Dazzletush!" The gang all cackled and pointed. Lucy unconsciously grabbed her butt and quickly lowered her hands looking towards Kat.

"You gonna show me dat bra or am I gonna have to walk in on you too?" Stretch said putting his arm around Lucy cackling loudly. Fatso and Stinkie followed their brothers lead and laughed till their faces went red. Lucy was fuming. She glared at Stinkie and she could've sworn for a split second that he looked a little guilty.

"Bite me," she hissed, escaping Stretch's arm.

"I'm not one for foreplay but I might make an exception for you baby," Stretch said grinning.

"You better..." She scrunched her face. "You better piss off, Jacob Marley." A scowl darkened Lucy's face as she pointed a small nimble finger towards Stretch.

"Hey watch your mouth, Dazzletush," Stretch inched closer to Lucy, and she blew a stray hair out of her face.

"Get a pulse, airhead," she said, smirking.  
"Take a hint, Skin sack." They were both inches away from each other with the entire room completely quiet.

"Good morning..." James's voice trailed off as he entered the room. "Oh dear," he sad quietly.

"Lucy, I can see you've met —"

"The three stooges," she said sarcastically smiling. "A pleasure." Stretch scowled.

"Pleasure's all mine sweetheart," Stretch crossed his arms defiantly. A slow grin crept through his lips. "But mostly 'is," He thumbed over at Stinkie. Stinkie blushed and shrugged.

"Solid five," he said, making Stretch and Fatso laugh. Lucy felt a burning sensation in her belly begin to rise.

"Negative 1." Lucy crossed her arms. "Even in life." She said smiling widely. Stretch and Fatso oo'd and ah'd as she tilted her head. Stinkie clutched the table tightly and scowled.

"WHO'S HUNGRY?" Casper yelled balancing plates on any available surface: his head, shoulders, arms and hands.

Fatso raised his hand eagerly and lowered it at the sight of Stinkie's angered expression.

"Well I'm starvin'," Fatso hit his fists on the table emphasizing his last word with a fork and knife in hand.

Casper set down the plates in front of his uncles and quickly they began to stuff their faces with food. Fatso grabbed the maple syrup and used both hands to squeeze the poor Mrs. Butterworth's bottle into his mouth only to have it splatter all over the floor with a splash. Stretch ate his pancakes one full cake at a time and barely hesitated to chew between pauses. Stinkie dumped the entire plate in his mouth and belched right in Lucy's direction. The green mist practically slapped her right in the face and she turned almost purple out of disgust.

"God, Stinkie!" Kat yelled clearing the air by waving her hand.

"Fellas please have some common decency." James said holding his nose.

"'Common decency'?" The trio looked at each other surprised and burst out laughing.

"A belch is just one gust of wind that cometh from my heart," Stinkie said rising from his seat. "...but should it take the downward trend and turn into a fart," he placed one hand over his heart and one hand in the air. Stinkie let out such a fart in fact, that it shook the windows and sent Casper flying into the next room. Fatso and Stretch spit their food out from cackling so hard till their checks turned red and their eyes watered.

"Say Stink," Stretch said wiping his eye with his pointer.

"Hmm?" He said, with a sly smile.

"How do you get a pancake to smile?" Stretch looked at both his brothers. "You butter it up!" Stretch swiftly grabbed the butter and chucked it at Fatso, nailing him right in the face.

"I'd slap you but that'd be animal abuse!" Fatso grabbed the syrup bottle and squirted it in Stretch's direction. He ducked just in time, the sticky substance hitting Stinkie instead. "You must spent all night woikin' on dat one!" Stinkie laughed huddling a biscuit his way.

"Not the biscuits," Casper said looking defeated. Food was flying everywhere and a poor unsuspecting Lucy stood ducked one moment too late as a slab of butter hit her square in the face. The room fell silent and the Trio froze, food in hands, hands in the air. James hit the table slightly and rose from his seat in a huff.

"Boys, that's enough!"

"Aw come on, Doc," Stretch said looking up. "We're jus' havin' some fun with our new air suckin' 'guest'." He said. "She's just bein' a sour pussy," Stretch fake gasped and put his hand over his mouth.

Lucy stood, wiped the butter off her face and excused herself from the table, feeling the wet hot tears begin to form behind her brown eyes. She began to breath heavily and clenched her fists.

"Uh oh, here come da water works!" Stinkie said mockingly.

Without warning the lights began to flicker a little at a time as Lucy wouldn't break her stare a the trio.

"What da hell?" Stretch said glancing at the lamps on the wall. She blinked a couple of times and let go of her strain on her temples and shoulders. Without another word, she left, leaving the kitchen in disarray, egg on the wall and everyone in confusion.

"Somethin's tellin' me that wodn't no coincidence," Stretch said squinting his eyes.

Lucy immersed herself into her work, still wiping off slabs of butter on her face. She opened her suitcase still sitting on the bed and lifted the top. She bent down and dove into it. She disappeared into the small purple bag and popped out with a small velvet bag with a drawstring.

"Aha," She said eyeing it suspiciously. She opened the top and poured out a handful of poppy seed into her hand. "I knew I had packed this." She said. She threw it into a small bowl and headed back and forth in and out of her mysterious suitcase for another fifteen minutes till she had all the necessary ingredients.

"As I went down to the river to pray, studying about that good ole' way," Lucy sang softly. "Oh sisters lets go down, let's go down, come on down," She walked over to her bag and pulled out one final item. It was a long, wooden stick with flower vines carved into the sides all the way to the tip. She held it and took a deep breath. "Down to the river to pray," She sang eyes closed. She spun the wand over the bowl and white static began to emerge from the tip. It mixed the substance together and began to steam. "Oh sinners lets go down, come on down. Down in the river to pray," She sang. Lucy pointed to the bowl with her wand and levitated a small black marble out of the goop.

"Lucy?" A quiet voice made Lucy scream and break focus, dropping the marble. It fell to the floor and shattered into millions of black pieces.

"Kat!" She squeaked, clenching her chest tightly. "I..." She said. "There is a logical explanation," She said out of breath.

"What the hell..." Kat said breathlessly starring at the object Lucy clung to. Lucy squinted a worried look and shrugged with he hands in the air.

"Look, I promise I'm not dangerous!" She said waving her hands. To both their surprises a green light emerged from the tip of the wand and shot towards a potted flower turning into a large and vicious venus fly trap with saliva-covered teeth, at least 6 inches long. The power from the spell flung Lucy back a few feet causing her to drop the wand onto the floor. Kat screamed and Lucy shot around eyeing the creature. She sighed defeatedly, looking at Kat with a guilt-ridden face. "Not most of the time anyway," She said. Kat started throwing books at it from the shelf. "No stop you'll just make it..!" She said as Kat launched a five hundred paged book into its face making it growl. "...Worse," Lucy said slapping her face. "I can fix this, I can fix this!" She yelled.

"Hurry up, Elphaba!" Kat shouted.

Lucy turned around, confused. "Huh?"

"You know, the wicked witch of the west? Gregory MCGUIRE...!" Her shout increased in volume as the fly trap shot towards her. Lucy shoved Kat aside and wiped the sweat from her forehead.

"Okay, a) I'm not wicked," her breath caught in her throat as she leaped to dodge the monstrous teeth. "And b), green is so NOT my color!" She began frantically searching through her suitcase.

"Are we seriously having this conversation while about to be eaten by some venus fly freak?" Kat yelled.

"Hey, if you hadn't scared me we wouldn't be in the mess!"

"You never told me I was harboring a witch!"

"Holy mackerel," Casper had flown through the room, and frozen in mid-flight when confronted with the giant fly-trap.

"Casper!" Kat yelled. "Help!" Powerful vines sprouted from the stem and enclosed themselves around Kat's ankles. She fell to the ground with a 'thud' as the vines entangled her entire body.

"Kat, hang on!" Where was her wand? She suddenly spotted it out of the corner of the room and made a leap for it, but the creature's vines enveloped her calves and threw her to the floor. She tried to wiggle her way out but the plant was too strong.

"Casper do something!" Lucy yelled.

"I don't want to be this plant's lunch," Kat struggled against the vines but they only grasped tighter.

Snapped out of his frozen state he began to think. "I hope this works..." He began to spin around and around and around the monster, causing a large tornado- like vortex to form, buying them some time. The venus fly trap screeched and loosened its grip on both Kat and Lucy. Casper's tornado sent a gust of wind through the room causing the dresser to knock over. Its mirror shattered not far from Kat, blowing a large shard of glass within her reach

"Casper, whatever you're doing, don't stop!" Kat yelled.

"IIII'LLL TRRYYY," Casper shouted dizzily.

Kat reached for the glass shard just in time to cut herself free from the enemy's grasp. She ran to aid Lucy and helped her up with her hand. Lucy stumbled over to her wand and snatched it swiftly. "Oh god, what was that spell..." she shook her head back and forth.

"Don't tell me you're a witch who can't remember spells," Kat yelled over the swishing sound. "That's like the punchline to a bad joke!"

"Well it's really hard to concentrate in here in case you haven't noticed!"

"Hurry, I can't hold out much longer!" Casper yelled. Lucy strained and closed her eyes holding her wand with both hands. She thought back as far as she could and remembered her grandmother's little poem.

"When you're trying to protect us, always use Deflectus!" The words seemed to be screaming in her ears.

"I've got it!" She yelled.

"What the hell are you waiting for?" Kat said ducking as objects flew in the air. "Get behind me, Kat! This is gonna be messy," she said. "Casper, when I say three you stop and open the window!"

"OKKAAAYYY!" Casper echoed.

"One," Lucy felt sweat run down her forehead. "Two," Kat flinched behind her, the monster was growing weaker. "Three!"

Casper stopped and blew the window open, shaking the monster as it wobbled off balance. "Defectus Vexategra!"

A large bolt of white lightning shot at the monster launching it out of the window and into the sky. They all ran to the balcony as they watched it slowly fall through the air until it hit the large blue ocean surface with a large splash. They all sighed on cue as Lucy felt her knees turn into pudding that couldn't hold her small body. She collapsed but Kat and Casper caught her by the arms and placed her on the bed.

"Woah," Casper said falling next to Lucy. "That's a new one." Kat plopped down next to the both of them and sighed.

"That't the last time I walk in on you without knocking," She said laughing a little.


	4. Chapter 4: Diner Disaster

"…A witch?" Kat said sipping on her chocolate shake. Sitting across the table from her, shifting uncomfortably in the rubber booth was Lucy fidgeting with her straw.

The two sat in a small diner off the coast to 'regroup' from their previous battle with the giant venus flytrap ambush back at the mansion. The atmosphere smelled of grease and cleaning supplies (as Lucy had pointed out to Kat) and the place was deserted but as far as Lucy was concerned she was just glad to be sitting somewhere normal for once: Normal chocolate shakes, normal conversation, normal, normal, normal.

"That's right," She said avoiding Kat's burning stare. Kat waited for more and gestured for Lucy explain.

"Go on," She said.

"What more is there to tell?" Lucy said shrugging. "I have warts, I use dead, black cats in my rituals and I cackle like a hyena at the stroke of midnight." She said sarcastically. folding her arms.

"Come on, Lucy." She said. "Seriously. Fill me in." She said twirling her straw with her finger.

Lucy tapped the table with her fingers and rested her head on both her small hands. Memories that she'd stored away in the very back of her brain had resurfaced and were swishing around uncomfortably making her feel sick to her stomach.

"What do you want to know?" She said sniffing. "I don't even know where to begin."

"Well that one's easy." Kat said pushing her hair behind her ear. "Just start from the beginning." Lucy sighed.

"Salem Massachusetts." Kat groaned.

"Okay," She put her hand on her forehead. "Please tell me that wasn't where you grew up. I'm sorry but that'd be the most cliche thing ever." She said dryly.

"It's not!" Lucy said defiantly. "It's where my grandmother was born. And hey you're the one who asked."

"Touché." Kat sat back and made a squeaking noise with her jeans on the rubber cushion. "All right, all right." Kat said. "Continue."

"Well," Lucy said shyly. "As most of America knows, those were dark times for 'underground' witches." Lucy motioned with air quotations. "No one knew what to do or how to feel." Kat nodded. "Witches had been around for a long time just minding their own business. But then when people began to suspect all the wrong people of heinous, black magic crimes, that's when things got bad. The salem witch trials began and fear was spread among everyone in Salem."

"Okay, this is like, fifth grade social studies stuff." She chuckled.

"Right," Lucy frowned. "But something you have to understand," She began. "This is the beef that they never teach you in pop culture, in the horror movies or even by the books." She inhaled. "…There were actual witches in Salem." She felt chills ride down her spine with even the mere thought. "And regular people weren't the only ones caught in the mass hysteria of the trials, Kat. Real witches went into hiding, lives were ruined, reputations were ruined." She said. "My family called it the 'Dark Year'."

"Damn." Kat said frowning.

"I know," Lucy exhaled slowly.

"But that's not to say that all witches were good ones. It's like denying that the human race has no flaws." She explained. "There are people of my kind that you need to watch out for—the 'Black Wives' as we always called them." Lucy blew some hair out of her face. "They're," She began. "Wicked. They prey on the weak and rely on black magic to get through one life to the next."

"And by that you mean…?" Kat asked.

"I'm talking like, sacrificing black cats, feeding off the souls of kids, summoning demons," She made blocks with her hands and tapped them on the table.

"So basically everything that every mainstream horror movie have taught me about witches are true…?" Kat said.

"I'm getting to that." Lucy motioned. "Another thing they don't teach you," She said. "…is about the good ones. Sure everyone loves good wicked witch, but thats a hurtful stereotype for one thing. The ones who use white magic to heal, protect and better understand the crazy mysteries of life, those are the ones we need to look to." She said. "Witches aren't all bad. And we're defiantly real. Most of the time we're just regular people walking the streets, sipping our coffee and reading the latest novel from the store; just like everybody else." She lowered her voice as a young, blonde waitress hovered over their table with a bored expression on her face. She blew a large pink bubble and pulled a wooden pencil out of her large hair.

"What'll it be?" She said bucking one hip to the side. Kat stuttered and chuckled.

"Oh—sorry," She said rubbing her eye. "Lucy?" She picked up the menu she had yet to shoot a glance at since they came into the diner. Lucy looked at the menu.

"Fries?" She asked. The girl shrugged.

"I don't know why you're asking me," She said dryly. "S'your food." She said taking the menus.

"We'll just take the fires." She said plastering a a wide smile on her face. Lucy folded her arms and averted her eyes from the waitress.

"Thanks." She said with a small smile.

"Mhm." She said and walked away her large hips swaying.

"Well _she's_ quite pleasant." Lucy said watching her make her way into the kitchen with a huff in each step.

"But as I was saying, my kind is so misunderstood. I mean, my brothers and sisters have been shoved underground over the centuries for being different, from being feared all because of one group that ruined all the fun for the rest of us." She said shaking her head.

"Bummer." Kat said frowning sideways. Lucy nodded. "God, it feels like I'm hearing all this for the first time." She chuckled nervously. "So witches are really real, huh?" Lucy grinned her teeth at Kat and nodded vigorously. "Gee, never thought I'd hear myself say that."

"Well we're out there all right, and some of us will stop at nothing to be heard, to be feared." She paused. "The bad ones, I mean." She tilted her head and glanced sideways lost in thought. "Power-hungry, bloodthirsty monsters. My Ona told me so may stories about missing pets, missing children, screams to horrible even the coyotes would refuse to howl at the moon." She said. "It's your death wish to be caught alone in the clasp of a black witch." Kat furrowed her brow. "Oh, but don't worry," She stuck out her hands. "Most of them died out in 1773, in America when the first Summer Solstice was held." She motioned.

"Huh?" Kat asked confused.

Lucy began.

"The Lunar Solstice is an event that happens every the years, where witches from all over," She said waving her hands in the shape of a rainbow. "See, on March 19th 1773, a great witch named Elvira Hogarth and her sister colony practically wiped out all the outsiders, who were using their power with and for dark forces. Every year they gather to celebrate the defeat of the black magic witches and warlocks, share our gifts, get out wands, see old friends, practice magic…" Lucy stared off into the distance. Kat laughed to herself. "It's really a beautiful thing. And the first summer solstice, was the mark of a new generation." She said. "I've only ever heard stories, but my Ona tells me it was the greatest moment in witch history." She smiled to herself. "Didn't destroy all the ant colonies but we got rid of most of them."

"Wow…That's a lot to take in," Kat said slowly.

"Yeah, sorry, guess I keep getting carried away. I keep forgetting I'm talking to a Dibbler." She chuckled looking at her feet.

"What?" Kat said tiredly.

"It's not an insult!" Lucy said quickly. "It's a term witches in the community use for people who don't possess any magical powers, or the 'gift' if you wanna call it that." Kat nodded slowly.

"Uh-huh." Kat said squinting. "Let's just go with Kat, okay?" She asked folding her hands together.

"You got it," She smiled sheepishly. "I apologize it's been a while since I've had one on one human interaction, much less with a Dibbler—I mean person, er human…Kat?" She stuttered.

"Hey no worries." She said waving her hand. "I promise I won't bite." She said. "I gotta say, you've got one hell of a mystery element to you." Kat said. "People in this town literally eat that stuff up." Lucy looked toward the waitress.

"Everyone here seems very artificial," Lucy trailed off. "…It's sad really." Kat nodded in agreement.

"Can I ask you something, Lucy?" Lucy resurfaced into reality and glanced Kat's way.

"Of course!" She said.

"I know you're a witch, I've pretty much got that concept down to a 'T'," She said. "But how'd you end up caught in the rain, wearing muddy clothes buying toothpaste and having no where to stay?" Lucy began to speak but closed her mouth and sat back.

"Food," Molly interrupted their conversation wielding a plate of greasy hot french fries on her tray. "Can I help in any other way?" She said sarcastically waving her hand around.

"No thank you you've already graced us with your presence enough already."

Lucy said smiling, taking a hot fry. Kat snorted and put her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. She sunk down and shook her head. The girl adjusted her tray and scoffed at Lucy.

"Whatever," She said passively. But before walking away, she stopped in her tracks and turned on her heals. She pointed finger at Kat and squinted.

"Freaky ghost girl," As she pointed, Lucy sat straight up and eyed Kat. She averted her glance from Lucy and blushed.

"I'm gonna kill Jeremy." She whispered.

Lucy mouthed the words, _"Who is this,"_ and Kat just shook her head.

"Do I know you?" She asked.

"Uh, duh?" She said squinting.

"Not following you." Kat said quietly.

"Mr. Rimmer, algebra 2, second period." She said laughing. "I copied off your test last week?" She said dangling her wrist.

"Molly Frederick." Kat folded her lips.

"I thought Jeremy Long was the friendless freak of Friendship High till you came along. I didn't know you had a life," She paused and glanced at Lucy. "…let alone decent human friends," Molly scoffed. "Do us all a favor and go hang out in the graveyard or something." Molly shook her head.

"Maybe I will, the lives ones around here just come in pairs of bottle-blonde, plastic barbie dolls." She muttered folding her arms.

"What'd you say?" She said getting to eye level with Kat. Kat glared at her but said nothing. "That's what I thought. Just go crawl back to your cave where you belong." Molly chuckled and took a handful of fries from Kat's plate and accidentally spilled her milk shake on the table. "Oops," She laughed. Lucy was fuming, feeling like there was steam running from her nose and ears. She stood up shaking a little.

"Hey miss," She called. Molly turned around and popped another bubble. "These fries are bland. Like your personality." She picked one up and ate one. "Needs ketchup." She said. Out of nowhere the ketchup bottle flew into the air and exploded onto Molly covering her dress, twenty-dollar tan, and cheap bleached hair.

"And,"Her eyes glazed over Molly's horrified face. "Oh dear I missed a spot." She smiled as her pointer finger raised in the air as well as her shake, dumping itself onto Molly.

"Oops," Lucy said in the same nasally tone. "Looks like that's coming out of your pay check." Molly screamed and ran into the kitchen, slipping a few times on her way over. The diner was completely empty, thank goodness and Kat lunged to her feet.

"Okay," Kat scrambled for her wallet and keys. "As hilarious as that was, it's time to go," She grabbed Lucy's hand and they bolted out the two front doors of the diner laughing. "Get in the car, get in the car, get in the car," Kat took hold of Lucy's arm and shoved her in the passenger seat. She started the engine and aimlessly backed out of the parking lot running over a curb by accident.

"Shit, what just happened?" Kat asked breathlessly clutching the wheel tightly.

"I," Lucy popped her fingers one by one and shook her head. "I have no idea." She said. "But I have a feeling that I'm going to regret this later…" Lucy bit her lip and shut her eyes. "I could pull out my Ona's old spell book and see if there's a memory wiper…?" She suggested with her eyebrows raised.

"I think the best thing we can do now, is try and pretend it never happened. Who's gonna believe a bottle blond, bra stuffing barbie doll any who?"


	5. Chapter 5: Soap Operas Are For Wimps

After a rather unsuccessful therapy session with the Doc, Stretch, Stinkie and Fatso belly laughed and smoothly glided out the door, opening it with their fists. They left James at his desk, head in his hands and papers scattered everywhere.

"Thank you Doc, for anothah fulfilling and enriching appointment that taught us absolutely nothin'!" Stretch said as he flew through the door.

"Sweet dreams Doc!" Stinkie waved.

"Don't let the desk-bugs bite!" Fatso smiled.

James just waved his hand without lifting his head or making eye contact. They all laughed and collected into the main parlor where they plopped down in sync onto a large purple sofa and turned on the TV. Stretch yawned and made a loud groaning sound. Stinkie popped his neck, his back then his knuckles and picked out some earwax out of his ear. Fatso scratched his stomach and belched, making the room shake.

"Seven and a half." Stretch said not looking away from the soap opera on the screen.

"What?" Fatso interjected, outraged. "That was clearly a ten! No hesitation."

"Not in this afterlife, you overgrown sack of flour." Stretched waved his hand half heartedly. "You break all the damn windows in the kitchen like Stink did back in '49, then we'll talk." He squinted. "Oy!" He yelled, pointing to the TV. "What the hell is Julia doin' back on the TV? I thought she ran off to Mexico with José to find her birth mother!" Stretch folded his arms and scoffed.

"Nah, you's thinkin' of Janice. See, she ran off with that blonde fleshie—what was 'is name…" Stinkie snapped his fingers trying to remember.

"Greg!" Fatso suggested.

"No, Greg was da one who was sellin' all that alcohol to those high schoolers and got himself arrested." Stinkie said.

"Oh yeah." Fatso said smirking. "What a guy! Jeremy?" He asked.

"Jeremy died two episodes ago when his drug dealer ran 'im over with the car!" Stretch yelled. "Don' ya remembah? The funeral was last episode and Kerri kept crying every five minutes."

"Shhh!" Stinkie slung his arm around his brothers' heads, covering their mouths with one hand and flapping the other excitedly. "I'm tryin' to listen!"

Stretch raised an eyebrow and removed his brother's hand slowly, but stayed silent. On the television, a man and woman stood in the small living room of a cabin in the snowy mountains, holding hands.

"But, Brad!" The woman said in an exasperated tone. "What'll happen to…" she looked at the camera dramatically. "…us?" She put a hand to her forehead. Suddenly a short man in a ski mask holding a bulging sack beat the door down and held out a gun.

"Oh, no!" Brad said pointing to the masked villain. "It's the man with the gun!"

"This plot is too predictable," Stretch said, unamused, lighting a cigar.

"Shhh!" Stinkie said again, making a face at his brother and glueing his eyes back to the screen.

"Who are you?" The woman said flipping her hair. The man pulled off his ski mask to reveal a handsome, blonde-haired fellow with blue eyes. The woman gasped and fell to the floor.

"Her twin brother Harold?" Fatso gasped, putting a hand over his gaping mouth

"My twin brother, Harold?" She whined.

"Goddamn," Stinkie emphasized.

"I KNEW IT!" Fatso rose immediately pointing at the television.

"Okay wow, _I_ didn't even see dat comin'," Stretch laughed, one arm griping the sofa and one hand raising his cigar to his mouth. "She bettah get that nice blonde ass o' her's movin' or she's gonna be buttered toast," he raised his eyebrows.

"I told you's guys he wasn't dead!" Stinkie threw his hands in the air. "I always had a feeling about that pipsqueak."

"Speakin' a' which," Stretch looked around. "Casper!" Within moments Casper poked his head through the stained glass, parlor double doors.

"Yes, Uncle Stretch?" He asked quietly.

"Go fetch today's papah and make it snappy. Don't make me wait around so long, eh short-sheet?" He grinned his teeth together.

"Like always, Uncle Stretch." Casper sighed.

"Ya wanna run that by me again, bulbhead?" Stretch snapped.

"Nothing, nothing." Casper reassured, rolling his eyes behind their backs. After he disappeared from view, Stretch turned to his two brothers.

"Look at dat, boys!" Stretch said. "No respect for the head honcho." He shook his head. "I mean look at us!" He rose up and turned off the television.

"Hey what gives?" Stinkie snapped. "I was in the middle o' dat!"

"It's a soap opera for christ's sake! We should be out terrifying souls, making people wet themselves, scaring 'dem fleshies silly!" He placed his hands on his hips sternly. "Boys we—we've lost our touch." Stinkie and Fatso gasped.

"No," Fatso gasped.

"Yes!" Stretch whined.

"But how—?" Stinkie questioned.

"We gone soft! Two fleshies livin' in our place! And a third one one the way! That's three whole bags o' bones suckin' _our_ air and eatin' _our_ food."

"But Stretch you's said just the othah' day that you love the Doc like our own brothah!" Stinkie said jabbing a finger at Stretch's chest.

"I ain't nevah—" Stretch furrowed his brow.

"Yeah, yeah. An' Kat—" Fatso stood up and cut off his brother. "She runs all the errands for us! She got your special cream that you like to put on when—"

"Alright, ALRIGHT!" Stretch snapped, the windows shaking a little. "That's _private_." He tapped his cigar and ashes fell to the floor one by one. He was slowly turning red as a tomato. "Just look at you two's! You being all lovey dovey with fleshies!" He put his hand on his hip.

"Sure the Doc is a-okay, and Kat's—eh," he twirled his cigar between his fingers. "But three whole fleshes takin' ovah _our_ territory? That's crossing some lines, that is." He said.

"Come on, we're still scary!" Fatso interjected.

"Oh yeah?" Stretch said, squinting.

"Yeah!" Fatso said confidently.

"When was the last time we _actually_ scared a fleshie?" He asked smirking.

"Uhh," Fatso frowned.

"I got it!" Stinkie said. "Last Wednesday that Mormon came to our door," Stinkie laughed.  
"Yeah, yeah! You remember the look on his face?" Fatso cackled and pushed Stinkie on the shoulder. "Good day," he said puffing his chest as a pair of circular glasses appeared on his nose. "Have you heard the good word of our Lord and savior—DEMONS, DEMONS, DEMONS!" Fatso bulged his eyes and laughed along with Stinkie. Stinkie held out a pretend cross and held it up.

"By the grace of Zeus, be gone foul demons!" Stinkie got on his knees and laughed so hard tears came from his eyes.

"Yeah nice work boys." Stretch scowled. "We scared one bible beater back into heaven." Stretch frowned.

"We got not one, not two, but _three_ fleshies livin' in _our_ home, boys!" He snapped. "Whataya call that huh?"

"Hospitality?" Fatso shrugged.

"No, you idiot!" Stretch folded his arms and rose from the couch. "It means we gone soft!" Stretch closed his eyes and lifted a first to his chin, stifling a few pity sniffles. "Never thought I'd see the day."

There was a moment of silence as he let his brothers mull this over.

"Here you go Uncle Stretch—" Casper flew into the room with a newspaper in his small hands. He paused and floated in the air making a face.

"Great timing, pipsqueak," Stretch muttered.

"Do you still want the paper…?" He asked quietly.

"Of course I want the damn papah!" He snatched it from Casper's hands, made it into a roll and slapped him up across the head. All the of the ghosts laughed and pointed. "At least we're still good at one thing…" he smirked. "And the yard needs dirtyin', go make yourself useful and scatter some leaves or somethin'. Now get outta here, short sheet!" Stretch snapped, blowing a puff of smoke into Casper's face.

"Second hand smoke kills people—especially children-everyday, Uncle Stretch." Stretch cackled lightly.

"Well it's a good thing you're already dead, ain't it?" He said quietly.

"Yeah, lucky me." Casper said rubbing his head and dusting off his nose. Stretch squinted and scowled.

"Get outta here, go on scat!" He ushered Casper out of the room and began eyeing the paper for his weekly crossword puzzle. He ran his slim fingers through the pages and yawned. Stinkie and Fatso had turned on the television and resumed their soap opera.

"She's breakin' Brad's heart!" Stinkie sobbed into Fatso's shoulder and he shook his head consoling Stinkie.

"That good for nothin' two timer!" Fatso shook his fist at the television.

"Eh, quiet down ova there I'm doin' my crossword puzzle." Stretch said behind the paper.

"Yeah, all two words!" Fatso and Stinkie laughed to themselves.

"Hey shut up the two of you's!" Stretch quickly lowered the paper and spat. "I'll have you know I found almost five last week!" He squinted raising the paper again.

"'Toins out dat 'glozzom' ain't a word…" he said sheepishly. He readjusted his position on the couch, but this time, didn't go back to his crossword puzzle. He had found something much more interesting. His eyes glazed over the "Social Events" column and grinned.

"Hey, hey, whata we have 'ere?" He said slyly. He saw a picture of families gathering around town hall carrying pumpkins and jumping into leaf piles.

"Lookie 'ere boys," Stretch said turning off the TV.  
"Hey, Jessica was just about to kill Jordan with the golden shovel her father gave 'er!" Stinkie yelled.

"Get ya asses ovah 'ere!" He pulled them in a showed them the article.

"Oh, the annual Harvest festival," Stinkie said in a slimy, smooth tone. "Oh boy, oh boy it's a masquerade pahty dis year." Stinkie said rubbing his hands together.

"There'll be tons of suckers just waiting to be scared outta their minds." Stretch said grinning.

"Not to mention a buffet," Fatso licked his lips and rubbed his stomach.

"Boys, I think we're back in business." Stretch said eyeing his brothers and blowing a puff of smoke into the air. "Time we reclaim our title."

* * *

Kat and Lucy barged through the front doors of Whipstaff Manor and slammed them shut with their backs. They both slid down to the floor and closed their eyes. Kat put a hand over her head and Lucy laughed, out of breath from running up the driveway.

"Wow," she said her mouth hanging open.

"Yeah." Kat eyed Lucy and thumped her head against the wooden door. "Safe to say I can't ever let you out of the house again?" She asked.

"Hey that girl was being really rude! I couldn't just sit there!" Lucy said standing up. She held out her hand for Kat.

"I'm used to it by now, Lucy," she said taking Lucy's hand. "Do you know how many schools I've gone to? How many houses I've lived in over the years? The rumors that went around about me? I mean when your dad is a therapist for dead people you're giving them a lot of room for insult."

"Well that doesn't mean you've got to take it," Lucy slumped her shoulders.

Casper zoomed in. "Where were you guys?" Kat and Lucy looked at each other.

"We were having some milkshakes…" Lucy said slowly. "And _maybe, possibly_ , by accident I dumped them all over our waitress…" she smiled innocently. Kat folded her arms and shook her head.

"No way! That's so cool!" Casper held up his hand. "High four!"

Lucy enthusiastically jumped to hit Casper's hand but stumbled, going right through it.

"Oops, sorry," Casper grimaced and smiled nervously. "I keep forgetting I'm made of air."

Lucy stood up gingerly and brushed herself off.

"Say, Kat!" Casper flew around her happily. "Check this out!" He handed her the newspaper. "Page eight," he smiled looking over her shoulder.

"The annual Harvest Festival will be up and running on October fifth, a great way to spend a Saturday filled with family fun." Kat read aloud. "And at midnight, a masquerade party under the stars." She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, Casper I don't know," she sighed.

"Come on, Kat! You promised!" He said. "This would be a great way for Lucy to get out of the house!"

Lucy sheepishly rubbed her arm. "Casper, don't you think it'd be a little weird for people to see me walking around with a complete stranger and a white cloud? Not exactly the kind of attention I'd want to attract." She chuckled and folded the paper.

"No, no, listen," Casper said. "I had a brilliant idea! I could turn invisible or better yet, I could wear a full body costume! No one would know the difference! Plus, you know I'm a good dancer."

Kat blushed and looked away.

"Life of the party! Er—death of the party?" Casper shrugged. "Come on, please?I've been dying to get out of this old, dusty, barn," he clasped his hands and held them to his cheek. Kat sighed.

"Oh, all right." Casper did a back flip in the air.

"Yes!" He cheered. "Thank you, Kat!" He said flying around her. "Lucy?" He stopped and looked at Lucy with large, hopeful blue eyes.

"I mean, what's a Harvest Festival without a witch?" She giggled.

"Come on, let's go find a costume!" Casper yelled. He headed straight out the door and Kat looked at her watch.  
"3…2…1…" she counted. They heard Casper sigh from outside the door.

"Oh right," he floated back into the closed doorway and chuckled nervously. I forgot—got too excited."

"Let me grab my wallet," Kat jogged up the stairs. "I'll be right back."

"I'll be here," Lucy called after her.

"NO!" They jumped when they heard Fatso cry from the parlor in the next room.

"Haha, you owe me ten bucks, puddin' belly!" Stinkie yelled.

"I told you's not to trust that bastard, Brad! He's a two faced liar!" Stretch snapped. Lucy sighed and glanced at Casper with worried eyes.

"I have a bad feeling," Lucy said. "What if…" she looked at the parlor door again.

"Oh, don't worry. They've actually calmed down a lot since _you_ came here." Casper said. "They're not gonna show up. They're too busy with that soap opera to notice anything!"

Kat and Casper began cracking up. Lucy joined in, nervously, but her gut was telling her something else entirely.


	6. Chapter 6: Big Plans

Chapter 6:

Three hours later having been to a costume store sold out of costumes, a jewelry store far too expensive and a dress shop that only sold dress sizes, two sizes too small, a melancholy Casper, Kat and Lucy trudged into the front doors feeling defeated. That is, until Casper had an idea.

"Come on, slowpokes!" Casper flew between wall after wall, and poked his head out to meet Lucy and Kat's tired faces.

"Well, sorry we're not as fast as you are, Casper," Kat chuckled.

"Yeah, we're definitely not as good as you are at walking through walls," Lucy said.

Kat glanced behind her shoulder and laughed at Lucy's snide comment while Casper rolled his eyes.

"God, how many stair cases can one house possibly have?" Kat said, out of breath while Lucy nodded in agreement.

"Twenty-eight, not counting the basement," Casper said cheerfully.

"Peachy," Kat groaned.

"Okay, this is the last stop," Casper floated over to a large, maroon bookcase.

"Thank goodness," Lucy said, pulling her hair out of her sweaty face. Her heart was banging wildly against her ribcage, and her legs burned.

"Now, all we have to do is find the right book…" Casper squinted and ran his finger over the series of dusty books lined up on the shelf.  
"Aha!" He said. "Dr. Bog's Big Book of Biology! A classic." He took the book out of its place and the bookshelf slid open to reveal, much to Lucy and Kat's dismay, another large set of stairs. Lucy felt her heart sink to her toes.

"More?" She said dropping her hands to her thighs.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me," Kat said eyeing the narrow staircase.

"Hmm," Lucy said, putting her hands on her hips, "four ghosts, cockroaches everywhere, cobwebs in every corner, and a giant cliff overlooking a ferocious ocean…yet _this_ is the scariest thing I've yet to see." She recalled all the ghoulish sights that inhabited Whipstaff Manor she'd had the displeasure of encountering.

"Told you it was scary," Kat muttered.

"Oh, boo, hoo!" Casper laughed. "Stairs won't kill you!"

"But a heart attack might," Lucy said.

"And besides," Kat cut in, "you don't have any legs! Or a heart! So you don't have room to judge here, mister." She smiled, squinting slightly.

Casper surrendered his hands in the air.

"Uncle, uncle!" He called. Kat shook her head and proceeded up the stairs as Lucy followed behind.

The three walked up the stairs, huffing and puffing the whole way. Once they reached the top, Casper stopped them at a large door.

"I swear to god Casper," Kat said adjusting the hem of her shirt, "if that's another set of stairs you'll be dead. Twice."

"Not stairs, and I think you'll be pleasantly surprised at what we find," Casper smiled. He turned the knob and the door opened with a loud creak. Kat and Lucy coughed, waving away the dust that had collected over the years.

Inside was a large room filled to the brim with boxes, and old, antique furniture.

"What is all this, Casper?" Kat asked.

Lucy glanced over and saw her friend's eyes widen in curiosity.

"An old attic, long forgotten." Casper put his hands on his hips and sighed. "I don't know why I didn't think to come up here sooner. But look, look," he flew over to an old rocking horse and began to rock back and forth. "This is Jimmy! I played with him all the time."

Lucy looked around, amazed at all the boxes and junk that surrounded her.

"And this," Casper flew over to a dusty closet and pulled out an old tuxedo. "My mother made this for me, I only ever got to wear it once. I still remember the day," Casper ran his fingers across the lace and laughed. "I wore it to a church dance, and some jerk 'accidentally' spilled punch all over me! No girl in that entire rom wanted to dance with me."

"Aw, Casper," Kat smiled gently and took his hand.

"Hey, no sweat!" He shrugged it off and smiled back at Kat. "Girls back then were all boring anyway, not like you." Kat blushed and looked down at her feet.

Lucy smiled at the gentle way Casper looked at Kat.

"Any who," Casper broke the silence. "There's just a lot of memories up here."

"Yeah, right!" Kat chuckled nervously and cleared her throat. She made her way awkwardly over to a box with the label, 'Don't Touch!', scribbled crudely in dark red marker on the lid.

"Oh, I have to see this," Kat said smiling.

Casper flew over and watched over her shoulder as she pulled the box open. Lucy tilted her head sideways to better see the the writing on the box. Her long hair was inches away from touching the dusty ground. Kat pulled out a golden shield on a wooden plaque and held it up to the window's light. There was a black engraving on the front.

"In honor of Theodore McFadden, for an outstanding demonstration of his musical talents and abilities through his Operatic rendition of Romeo and Juliet." Kat frowned and felt the plaque. "And Theodore is?"

"Oh that's Uncle Fatso—er Uncle Theo…?" Casper shrugged.

"No way." She blew the dust off the plaque to reveal the dates. "The Annual Sunbury Music Festival, 1883."

Lucy raised her eyebrows. Fatso didn't strike her as the performing type, even though she had to admit he and his brothers were a bunch of drama queens.

"Uncle Fatso was really talented from what my dad told me—and he never told me that much about my uncles." Casper squinted at the writing.

"Why not?" Lucy asked.

"I dunno, I think they might've had a rough history together or something," he shrugged. Lucy thought back to her own 'rough family history', specifically the one between her grandma and mother.

"To be honest, I'm not sure if I should be impressed or scared…" Kat said.

"I'd say both is a safe bet," Caper suggested. After she placed the plaque on a wooden table, she reached back in and pulled out a metallic flask.

"Oh, that was Uncle Stretch's!" Casper pointed to it and smiled.

"Look at _this_ engraving," Kat squinted and read aloud. "To my sweet, Vinnie Bear, with love, Charlie." Kat snorted.

Casper cringed and nodded. "Gosh, Charlie." His face softened as he rested his elbows on the table. "She was a character."

Kat half-smiled. "Who was she?"

"She lived in New York for years before she and Uncle Stretch got together. Oh boy, those two were always all over each other!" Casper stuck out his tongue and grimaced, making Kat laugh. "When they'd come to visit, back in the early days, she'd tell me stories about her adventures in women's rights campaigns." His fond smile faded. "Three months before their wedding…she went to a protest, in Manhattan. Things got out of hand," Casper's brows furrowed. "Someone shot her from behind while she was speaking." He floated sadly to the ground. "Uncle Stretch wasn't the same after that…"

"God, Casper. I'm so sorry," Lucy's eyes welled up watching the little ghost.

He tried to brighten up. "She did live a good life…I just wish she had lived it longer."

"With Vinnie Bear?" Kat smiled, trying to cheer him up.

"Yep, Uncle Vincent." He chuckled.

Lucy looked at the engraving and smiled. It warmed to her heart to think that someone could've loved Stretch in another life.

"I think it's sweet," she said quietly. "An epic love story for the ages."

Kat looked at the engraving again and shook her head. "Someone get me a grater for all this cheese." She shivered and placed it back in the box. She searched around again and pulled out a beaten up teddy bear with a faded red ribbon around his neck.

"Uncle Stinkie used to carry that around on his really bad days," Casper said. "He had crippling anxiety all his life."  
Lucy glanced at Casper, surprised. Anxiety? Sure he seemed a little nervous, sometimes, but she would never have guessed it was as severe as that.  
"So the great asshole really does have a sentimental side?" Kat broke into her thoughts. "How touching." Despite the hardness in her voice she placed the bear back in place with care.

"So, why did you bring us up here again?"

Casper jolted upwards and snapped his fingers. "That's right! Costume ideas! For the festival!"

Kat and Casper began rummaging through the other boxes and under the furniture around the room, leaving Lucy alone with the box. She picked up the bear slowly and sniffed it. It smelled like old books and very faint perfume. She knew it had been a bear well loved. It reminded her of her old rabbit that she would cling to when her grandma and mother would get into fights. She kissed its matted head softly and placed it on top of the lid in a sitting position. She joined Kat and Casper, who were now occupied with a box filled with old furs and jewelry.

"Eleanor Roosevelt." Casper said excitedly.

"Who?" Kat looked at him with a confused expression.

"You don't know who Eleanor Roosevelt is? What do they teach you kids in school these days?" He said, exasperated.

Lucy laughed to herself and shook her head. She wiped the dust off her hands on her jeans and examined another box. It was titled, 'Photos' in a fine black ink. She pulled out a large portrait of three mystery somebodies: a tall younger man holding a baby in his arms and a younger woman with dark messy hair pulled back in a bun. She wasn't looking at the baby, but at the man. Her eyebrows were thick and dark, cresting over bright, sparkling eyes. The man grinned back at her, and Lucy saw the love in both their expressions. Maybe these weren't random somebodies after all…

The man looked familiar, with layered black hair and a tall frame, pale eyes and a wicked and dashing smile. Stretch, Casper, and Charlie? Or did Charlie ever have a baby? She placed the picture back into the box and selected another of a different man making a snide face at the photographer. Lucy recognized those eyes, the way they seemed to look straight through her. She tilted it into the light. His hair was gelled back and he was wearing a suit that squeezed all the wrong places. Still, his face was cute, round and kind. She could've sworn she'd seen him before…

"Whatcha looking at, Lucy?" Casper hovered in front of Lucy with a large yellowed sheet hanging over his arm. Lucy jumped and almost dropped the portrait, catching it before it hit the floor.

"Nothing, nothing," she scrambled to put the portrait away.

"Hey, that's Uncle Stinkie!" Casper said picking it up again. "That was the day my Mom and Dad got married." He looked closer. "Mom made them all wear something nice, she said they fought her on it all the way." He chuckled.

"What was his name?" Lucy asked, feeling her face flush at the now-familiar mischievous smirk she had seen before on Stinkie's face.

"Joseph, but we all called him Uncle Joey."

An odd burning sensation in the pit of her stomach, causing her to just smile awkwardly. "Did you find a costume?" Lucy said trying to change the subject.

"Yeah!" Casper held up the sheet enthusiastically. "This way I can cover up and cut out some eyeholes."

Kat nodded in agreement. "Casper found a chest full of costume accessories on the shelf. And I found these bad boys in that closet over there," she pointed to a large leader oak chest covered in dust. "Plus all these masks!" Kat held up a long black dress and an old fashioned white evening gown and a pair or masquerade masks. "Aren't they groovy?" She said turning to Lucy.

"Yeah," she replied, still feeling odd.

"My mom made my costume almost every year, she was a wonderful seamstress. She was always making my pirate play clothes when I was little! How handy is that?" He took a plastic sword from the chest and started swinging, pretending to duel with someone.

"The dress might be a little big but I'll bet you could just find a spell make it fit…?" Kat suggested. Lucy laughed slightly.

"Or I could break out my sewing kit. I can sew, like normal." She said quietly. Kat blushed slightly.

"Oh yeah, we'll stick to that then." She lowered her arm noticing Lucy's uncomfortable demeanor. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Oh nothing, just feeling a little sick to my stomach all of the sudden is all." She put her hand to her tummy—that part was true. "Must be all this dust." She scratched her nose and rocked on her heels.

"Well come on, I know a shortcut back to the living room." Casper said.

Kat frowned and took Lucy's hand.

"Maybe we can find you something in town, just the two of us," she said smiling. Lucy nodded. Casper took an old cane and knocked it against the wall three times, causing a wall to creak open and reveal a secret passageway.

"Don't tell me you knew about this the whole time and never said anything," Kat crossed her arms defiantly.

"Not the whole time—just when we got to the third floor…oops." He smiled sheepishly.

Kat rolled her eyes. "Well, come on let's get out of here already." She motioned to her friends and disappeared into the archway.

"Aight boys," Stretch followed by his brothers flew into the night sky. "To da town centah," he said proudly.

They looked over the sleepy town of Friendship. There were no lights, no people out and about in the late hours of the night, nothing. Nothing but an old owl sitting on the gnarled branch of an oak tree.

"When the sun's away the trio comes out to play," Fatso said eyeing the large full moon.

"There—" Stretch pointed to the town center and they dove down silently, letting the wind carry them. "Dis is where the coasties are havin' this little shindig," he smirked. "They won't know what hit 'em." He smiled mischievously. "Stink, you got the bag o' goodies?" He turned to his brother.

Stinkie nodded. They slid through the brick wall around the back entrance.

"It smells like sugar cookies in here!" Stinkie snarled, holding his large nose.

"Mmm, sugar cookies," Fatso said dreamily.

"Someone get me a dead fish or somethin'!" He hissed.

"Mmm, dead fish…" Fatso rubbed his stomach.

"Hey wait a minute…" Stretch stopped Stinkie and Fatso abruptly. "Yous hear that?" He squinted his eyes and looked to the double doors. They heard footsteps coming and grinned at each other. "It's showtime boys," he said.

Timid footsteps could be heard approaching the main hall. It was the midnight shift for the 100-year old security guard, Jerry. As he slowly opened the double doors his flashlight shook in his wrinkled hands.

"Hello?" His voice was croaky and small. Perfect scaring material. "Damn, teenagers! Go find some other love shack! Not in this town center! Now scram!" He yelled, hunched over. "Hello?" He flash his flashlight around the room. The chandelier began to shake a little, making small _tinkling_ sounds. He shown the flashlight on it quickly and the shaking ceased.

"Jerry," Fatso said cooly, sounding almost like the wind or a breeze.

"Wha—" He turned around quickly and held onto his flashlight for dear life.

"Damn hearing aids," he said shuffling out quickly. But poor Jerry didn't see it coming. Stretch, Stinkie and Fatso swept in front of him and bared their fangs with piercing red eyes.

"BOO!" They all yelled and raised their hands like claws. Jerry let out a shriek and fell over backwards dropping his flashlight. The trio hugged and laughed together pointing at the old man. Stretch wiped a tear from his eyes.

"Oh that nevah gets old," he said putting his hands on his hips.

"Whata we do with 'im?" Fatso asked.

"Ah just leave 'im, someone will find him in the morning," Stretch grimaced looking at this ancient face.

"God, what is this dude, one-hundred years old or somethin'?"

"Nah dis bozo's a local legend! He's one hundred and two!" Fatso threw his hands in the air.

"He's not breathin', Stretch," Stinkie poked him slightly on the stomach and he gurgled slightly. They all loomed over him and watched in silence. Jerry made a small spasm, causing them all to jump back a little bit.

"That's good enough for me!" Stretch said flying upward. "Aight, do we remembah the plan, boys?"

They nodded.

"We possess some poor fleshies bodies at da begginin' of da party," Stinkie said rubbing his hands together.

"Then we get in there and wreck havoc as usual," Fatso said grinning.

"Then as just before the clock strikes two -" Stinkie said.

"- the stink bomb will go off! And as a bonus we'll reveal ourselves and scare the livin' pants off the entire town!"

They cackled together, gathering in a small huddle. "And bada-bing bada-boom we're back in business," Stretch said, smoothly.

"It's the perfect plan for a night them fleshies won't evah forget!" Stinkie said.

"Now let's get movin, if we're gonna get this bomb ready in time for the party tomorrow," Stretch said.

Stinkie and Fatso grinned at each other and pulled out the bomb. It was round and a puke green with a stink cloud on the front of it.

"My finest work," Stinkie brought it to his face. "Let's put her to work, this time tomorrow? The entire town will be the stinkiest town in all of Maine."


	7. Chapter 7: Masquerade Suckers

Saturday, October fifth approached with haste, and the whole town was talking. Not because of the Jerry Spinster's mysterious heart attack he had to be hospitalized for, but of the annual Harvest Festival.

"A little eyeliner never hurt anyone, now hold still," Kat took her charcoal liner under Lucy's crooked eyes.

"Um, Kat?" She said, looking up. "It feels like you're stabbing me in the eye with a pen," she muttered quietly.

"Honestly, what's the difference?" Kat smudged it with her thumbs and stepped back to look at her work. She smiled and turned Lucy around in her stool so she could see herself in the mirror.

"You know I used to really hate makeup," Kat said. "But then I realized it's kinda a chick's best friend; a little bit can go a long way."

Lucy touched her face and turned to see every angle, but didn't say anything.

"You okay?" Kat asked.

"I…" Lucy whispered. "I like it." She smiled softly. "I never really go the chance to go to a high school dance before. Not with homeschooling and how crazy everything was getting…"

Kat knelt down to meet Lucy's reflection. "When are you going to tell me your mysterious and trying backstory?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Soon. And honestly? Sometimes it feels like it's straight out of a horror movie or something."

"Hey," Kat said reassuringly. "I moved to ten different states with my crazy dad, who's a therapist to the dead, and now we're living in a hundred-year-old mansion being haunted by four crazy ghosts," she raised both eyebrows. "People can surprise you. You can trust me, okay?"

Lucy smiled. "Okay."

"Good. Got your mask?"

Nodding, Lucy picked up a silver Colombia mask beside Kat's old jewelry box. Kat took a crescent moon shaped emerald one. They placed them on their faces and giggled at their reflections.

"This is really weird…but in a good way." Lucy stood up and smoothed her dress.

"Ready?" Kat asked, turning the knob to her door.

"Ready."

Lucy and Kat met Casper out in the hallway. He was draped in a long black cloth with his mask sewn onto the front.

"Very dashing," Kat chuckled.

"Why thank you, m'lady," he said, taking a bow. They descended down into the main hallway where James was waiting for the three of them with his large camera.  
"My goodness, is this what the kids are wearing now a days?" He chuckled.

"Dad," Kat sighed, a little annoyed. "It's a masquerade party." She eyed the camera and began inching towards the door.

"Well get together the three of you, let me get a good picture." He held the camera upside down and snapped a quick photo.

"Um, Dr. Harvey?"

He eagerly pulled out the photo as it printed and frowned with the outcome.

"The camera's upside down," Lucy said, pointing shyly.

James smiled sheepishly and nodded.

"See, that would explain…the—and—okay, okay get going."

"Bye, Dad," Kat kissed James on the cheek and Casper shook his hand.

"Well, well, well if it isn't Twiddle Dee, Twiddle Dum and Twiddle Dummer!" Stretch, Stinkie and Fatso entered the room laughing.

Lucy suddenly felt vulnerable, and the burning feeling in the pit of her stomach came back when she glanced Stinkie's way. Funny thing, she could've sworn he'd been looking at her before she met his glance.

"Aw, did you guys want to come too?" Kat asked in a mocking tone.

"I wouldn't be caught livin' in one of those…whatevah you call that mess," Stretch pointed to Casper's costume.

"Hey!" Casper said. "Took me a whole hour to make this."

"Yeah and it really shows," Stinkie and his brothers snickered.

"Real mature. Don't you have some kids to scare, or some chains to rattle?" Kat snarled up at the three.

"Oh, rattling chains is so seventeenth century," Stretch said waving his hand.

"Come on, let's get outta here before the scream team decides to throw a party of their own," Kat mumbled.

"A-greed!" Casper said from under his sheet. Kat pulled Lucy's arm and fled through the door, Casper flying close behind.

"Oh, kitty-cat? Don't talk to any strange men!" Stretch waved to them with a kerchief and one hand on his chest.

"Call if you's comin' home late!" Stinkie cooed.

"And don't get any stains on your adorable costumes!" Fatso called after them. "You're father and I paid good money for those!" He wrapped his arm around James causing his to drop the camera.

Once they were out, they breathed a collective sigh of relief. That could have gone much worse. They hurried to the car and piled in, Lucy in the passenger and Casper in the back seat. Kat noticed Lucy's turning white as a sheet and gave her a look.  
"Don't let those guys bother you. They're just miserable apparitions who do nothing but drown their sorrows in soap operas."

"Right." Lucy said, dropping her shoulders.

"Okay, you two. Lets get this party started!" Casper cheered. Kat turned on the first FM station and "September" by Earth Wind and Fire blasted through the speakers.

"What is this?" Lucy yelled over Kat's loud singing.

"It's called music," she replied, tapping her hands on the steering wheel to the beat. Lucy rolled her eyes and scrunched her brows together.

"It's really loud," she made a face at Kat.

"Yeah, so?" Kat laughed watching Casper dance in the backseat. "Come on, it's like an instant classic!"

Lucy relaxed her her shoulders and felt the bass jingle in her bones. Maybe she could use a night to relax. Besides, at a masquerade ball in the sleepy town of Friendship, Maine, what could go wrong?

Arriving at the building lit up with lights and filled with people, the Ghostly Trio could barely stand the excitement of reclaiming their title as the scariest, and the most daring ghosts in the afterlife. They made themselves invisible and hovered over the building watching those air suckers enter through the doors, all clothed in their ridiculous attire.

"Step one, find a sucker," Stretch said cooly looking around.

"Quite a selection tonight, eh Stretch?" Fatso smiled devilishly.

"Yeah, yeah," he said. "I think I'm going for that guy ova there," he laughed, spotting a tall, shamelessly handsome guy sporting thick black hair all gelled around atop a purple suit.

"Hey that looks like the airhead from Grease!" Stinkie joked. "Aw, he's got your nose. You'd think they'd have to have one 'a dose masks custom made." He nudged Fatso in the stomach and they burst into a fit of giggles.

"We'll see whose laughin' when I got da best lookin' dame on my arm at midnight," Stretch smoothed his head and grinned.

"Hey, hey, hey! What about Paul Bunyan over there?" Fatso pointed to a large, board shouldered man strutting at least a foot higher than every guest at the party.

"Go get 'em kid!" Stretch pushed him into the air and he flew into the large man. Fatso struggled to gain control of his victim and spun around a couple of times, hitting his head with his meaty hands and cursing out-loud. Once he gained control, and a few concerned glances, he gave his audience a thumbs up and a large and confident smile. He strutted over to a nearby tree and nonchalantly looked at his fingernails.

"Wish me luck brotha," Stretch carefully snaked his way amongst the crowd and slipped into the large gaping hole that was this charismatic cat's mouth. Making his way comfortably inside, the man bent backwards and waved his hands around resisting his new found 'roommate'. Finally, he found his way and took control. He straightened up and looked around, smiling widely. He liked the feel of this guy, he could tell it was gonna be a wild night. On his way to his brothers, he spotted a thin younger woman and approached her with ease taking her hand.

"Hiya, doll-face," he bowed suavely and lightly kissed her gloved hand. "Catch you on the dance floor later?"

"Sure," she said dumbfounded, her cheeks flushing a rosy red.

He clicked his tongue, pointed her direction and walked away with a wide stride and a kick in his heels.

"Hey, the chicks out here ain't half bad," Stretch elbowed his brother excitedly. "I'm gonna make 'em melt like hot fudge on a ice cream sundae if ya catch my drift." He cockily lifted his shirt collar.

"Mmm, sundae…" Fatso rubbed his stomach.

"Hey, eyes on the prize you big ball of bleach," Stretch hit him on the back of the head and Fatso winced.

"Hey, that actually hurt," Fatso massaged the place where Stretch had smacked him. For a moment, Stretch looked quite taken aback but quickly regained his posture and yelled in Stinkie's direction. "Oi! Stink! Get movin'!"

Stinkie had to admit, he was having a little bit of trouble regaining his focus much less his confidence. They hadn't done this in years! Swallowing his fear he saluted to his two brothers and flew above the crowd, praying not to be seen. In a fit of panic to find someone suitable, he dove in for the nearest person he could find. He was tallish, had messy black hair, a large nose, and a large, black leather jacket. Stinkie collided into him and sent him sprawling to the ground. He'd never met such an impressionable one before, and such a hollow-headed one, at that. Much to Stinkie's surprise, he easily gained control and stood up on his feet, wobbling a bit. He turned around and was met eye to eye with a large black motorcycle.

"This fleshie's deluxe! Wheels and everythin'!" He said a little too loudly. A couple people started starring, and he turned on the intimidation card.

"Whataya you lookin' at?' He spat. He puffed his chest and stuck his hands into his pockets, jiggling the pair of keys inside them. "Hiya fellas." He said cooly.

"Lookin' good boys!" Stretch said. "I'd forgotten how good this feels." He shook and swayed his hips around slightly.

"The smells, the music, the babes," Fatso's tongue was hanging out like a dogs in summertime.

"Gentlemen?" Stretch pulled his newly 'fleshified' brothers into a large bear hug, but admittedly it was harder considering how tight the suits were—and Stinkie's skinny jeans. "Let's go rustle dat hornet's nest."

Strung together like a candy necklace, arm in arm, Stretch, Stinkie and Fatso strolled into their newly found surroundings with confidence and ease. They burst open the doors and pushed past a large group of fire-themed, feather ridden folk.

"Somebody cancel da medication and up the booze, because we're just what da doctor ordered!" Stretch said throwing his hands up to the crowd with Stinkie and Fatso behind him.

"Do I spot a dance floor that needs some attention?" Fats tapped his large fingers on his stomach and gazed.

"Go to 'er…" Stretch set his head on Fatso's shoulder and gazed at the vacant dance floor. "She's calling your name." He snickered.

"What if they don't like me?" Fatso fiddled with his fingers.

"You shake 'em up with da old 'buttercup' and even Michael jackson'll be runnin' for 'is money," Stretch smiled.

"You really think so?" Fatso straightened up, beaming.

"Whataya think I'm an idiot? Get out there and tear up dat dance floor!" He pushed him off his heels and into the center of the room.

"Now if you'll excuse me I've got some dames I gotta 'shake up' myself," he smiled, extending his index and thumb outwards towards Stinkie. He left him standing there, vulnerable and awkwardly scratching his now-numb crotch. How the hell do these fleshies wear such tight clothes?

Stinkie maneuvered his way through the crow spitting out "hello's" with an extra smelly breath. The sound of people gagging and choking at the whiff of his ghastly stench was absolute music to his ears. He moon walked his way through the crowd and interrupted conversations at tables just to get a good breath in.

"…you know," he said sitting down at one table, propping himself up on his long elbow. "You guys look a little too cheerful for this shindig. Here, let me help lift the mood." He let out a belch that sent a wave of green air amongst the table that made the flowers wilt and the people flee their seats, holding their breaths. "Where yah goin'? We was just gettin' to know each othuh!" He held up a wine glass and took a large gulp, shaking his head violently forgetting for a moment the buzz that alcohol gave him.

"Hey!"

Stinkie heard one woman gasp.

"What the-?!" Another one shrieked. Stinkie gazed back over his shoulder and saw Stretch scooting from one woman to the other from behind. He had a devilish grin on his face as he ran his hand over each of their backsides, causing gasps and shrieks to come from behind each mask. He took one poor gal into a spin-n'-dip and suavely kissed her neck before gliding her over to the center of the dance hall. Stinkie quickly turned around as she cursed and kneed Stretch in the groin before storming away. He knew it would make Stretch angry if he caught his younger brother watching.

Fatso, obeying Stretch's wishes, was indeed 'tearing up' the dance floor; as everyone's favorite songs came on, he led the crowd in a series of dance moves, as his large stature made the ground shake with every step of his large feet. From the 'Reebok', to the 'Roger Rabbit', to the 'Hammer' and the 'Sprinkler', Fatso was the star of the show. The perfect way to reel in their victims to a night of fun before they scared their dancing feet away.

Stinkie rose from his seat and headed for the buffet table, but for food this time. He filled his plate with brussels sprouts, cheese and fried asparagus piled on top of each other. He licked his lips and turned around quickly, not in enough time to realize there was someone standing next to him, filling her punch glass. Bumping into him, she squeaked as she spilled her punch onto his jacket. Simultaneously, Stinkie dropped his plate on the floor, scattering food everywhere. They both sank to the floor and began to remedy their mistake.

"Oh, geez, I'm so sorry," she said.

"Yeah you better be! This jacket's worth—" as he looked up, he met her nose inches from his.

The world suddenly fell into slow motion as their eyes met. He noticed a small trail of faded freckles lining the bridge of her nose below the mask. He noticed that one of her blue eyes was paler than the other. Her lips were painted a pale shade of pink; they were small and perfect. He hadn't been this close to a fleshie in years. He stood.

"I mean, it ain't a problem, Miss," he extended his hand and she looked at the floor before grabbing it. Her gloved hand was small and soft and quick to retract back to fixing her long, white-blonde hair.

"Thank you…" She said awkwardly. He was completely dumbstruck. This mysterious stranger wasn't half bad for a fleshie.

"I'm…" he began extending his hand a second time but froze in his tracks, realizing he had no name to introduce himself with. "Tom…" he nodded. Yeah that was good, but what about a last name? He looked around for inspiration. He caught sight of a sign over the door that read, 'Browning Community Center'. "Browning. Tom Browning, yeah," he said frowning slightly. The girl shook his hand and smiled shyly.

"It's nice to meet you, Tom. I'm Lucy Gilliam." Stinkie froze. The world's motion was changing but not slower, it was speeding up. His heart was racing, his head was pounding.

The dame he'd fallen for was the same air sucking intruder who he'd seen naked in the bathroom just last week? The weirdo who hung around with his nephew and Kitty Kat? The one who's face he'd thrown chewed up pancakes at? No this was not happening. Stretch had warned him and Fatso to steer clear of her, there was something fishy going on. Something dangerous. But what? This girl didn't seem dangerous. She smelled like lilies, and her hair was soft, her glance was kind and gentle and her silk dress curved in all the right places— and he had to look up. He realized he was looking at her hips. He shot his eyes upward and-oh god, even behind the mask he could see a sparkle in those eyes.

"Lucy! We've been looking everywhere—who's your friend?" Kat wandered up behind Lucy and shot Stinkie and suspicious look, breaking his train of thought. He straightened up and adjusted his collar.

"Kat, this is Tom," Lucy nodded looking at her feet.

Kat sized him up and sighed, looking towards Casper. "Well come on, we were gonna go dance."

"Yeah that guy's a maniac!" Casper said, from underneath the cloak. Lucy looked form Kat to Stinkie and flattened her lips.

"Actually, I think I'm gonna stay here, you guys go ahead."

"You sure? This guy isn't giving you any trouble?" Kat asked cautiously.

"Who me?" Stinkie put a and to his heart and pretended to look offended.

Kat rolled her eyes.

"I'll be fine," Lucy said.

"You know where to find us." Kat gave her one last look and disappeared with Casper into the crowd of people surfacing under the disco ball. Lucy turned around and fiddled with her hair some more.

"So tell me, Lucy," Stinkie poured them each another glass of punch to fill the awkward silence that had settled. "What brings you here dis fine evening?" He took a slower, steadier sip than before.

"Well, I'm really not one for parties…" she shrugged. "But, my friend wanted to get out of the house for a change, maybe get some human interaction for once."

"Well ain't it a good thing she did," he felt a wave of confidence in his new form. Lucy giggled softly and avoided his glance.

"You know I don't think I've seen you around here before," he said raising an eyebrow. Maybe in this form he could get some information out of her. She stalled hard and adjusted her mask.

"Well," she began. "I'm new to Friendship. I''m just here as a drifter, I guess. Um…this party's nice," she said looking Kat and Casper's way.

"Yeah," Stinkie could tell she was trying to change the subject, so he dropped it. As she turned her head he found his gaze outlining her pronounced neck line, then wandering a little ways down…

"So-what about you?"

Stinkie immediately met her glance again feeling his cheeks flush. He stuttered and took another sip of his drink.

"I'm sorry…?"

She chuckled lightly. "What do you do here in Friendship?"

"I—I—I'm a toilet…uh…engineer." Well that was stupid.

"A toilet engineer…?" She laughed the cutest laugh Stinkie he'd ever heard. "You mean like a plumber?"

"Yeah, yeah a plumber. That's the word I was lookin' for."

"That's so cool!" She grinned.

"Yeah. Do you wanna dance?" He interjected quickly.  
She looked surprised. "Um…"

"I've got a friend in common wih' da DJ," he half smiled, tilting his head.

"I'm not much of a dancer…" she shrugged, her cheeks turning pink.

Stinkie dropped his chin and took her small hands in his. He kissed each one lightly. She looked caught off guard and weak-kneed all at the same time.

"Come on, I'll teach ya!"

She smiled, and picked at her lip nervously. He had to admit, as much as he hated walking in this guys shoes, (literally) it gave him a surge of confidence he'd never had before.

"Well, okay," she met his gaze.

Stinkie felt butterflies in the pit of his stomach, a feeling he hadn't felt in over a century. No one had ever made him feel this way before, at least not a one he could remember.

They danced for a while, and Stinkie almost felt like a normal guy. For once in his afterlife he almost missed being alive. He twirled her around to the upbeat song and caught her mid fall. They danced for what seemed like ages, not even growing tired. That is until Stinkie felt his stomach drop like a rock. The plan… he sighed and pulled Lucy close so she could hear him.

"Hey, you wanna get outta 'ere?" He asked.

Lucy frowned and looked around, her whole demeanor changing.

"For a milkshake or somethin', I mean," he elaborated quickly.

"Tom, that's real sweet of you, but I—" before she could respond the lights all went out with a flash.

Stinkie and Lucy looked around but it was pitch black. When the lights returned, Stretch was on top of the stage still inhabiting his sucker's body. He smiled and his teeth sparkled almost blinding the audience. He tapped the mic and leaned over.

"Ahem?" He beamed. "Ladies and gentlemen…I'd like to introduce," he put his head down and held out his hands. "Me, and my pals." He grinned and nodded at the DJ. He motioned for Stinkie and Fatso to join his side.

"I gotta…" Stinkie boldly kissed Lucy's cheek and headed for the stage to join his two brothers.

"Come on boys, let's rock this mother!" He said into the microphone making the crowd cheer. "Sometime's, when I'm feelin' a little low, I gotta head down to a little ol' place I call…" They all dipped their heads, just like they'd rehearsed.  
"The love shack," they crooned in unison. The music on the speakers began to play 'Love Shack' and the crowd reeled with laughter and excitement. Everyone began to clap and stomp their feet to the contagious rhythm.

"If you see a faded sign that says, 'fifteen miles to love shack'," Stretch sang out, in a beautifully strong voice as Stinkie and Fatso 'doo-bopped' to the beat.

"Love shack, yeah, yeah," Stinkie and Fatso joined in sounding better than ever. As they sang, they patted, twirled and dipped each other suavely, receiving several hoots and hollers from the dancing crowd.

Stretch grabbed the mike and fell to his knees, soaking up all the attention from the screaming girls letting down their hair.

"The love shack is a little place where we can get togetha…love shack baby," he thrust his hips forward as he got to the chorus.

The crowd was going absolutely nuts as they sang in butchered harmony. Nearing the end of the song, just as the trio had planned, the lights began to dim.

"Bang bang!" They chanted with their fists. "Bang bang!"

Stinkie felt his stomach drop like a boulder as the lights went out completely.

This was the end, the last chance he's ever have with Lucy. She'd never notice him, never look his way, and would never speak to him again. Unless…

When the lights came on and Stretch and Fatso began to cackle delightedly, Stinkie felt his heart pounding like a drum. Would he ever be able to win his brothers' trust again? Maybe not. But it was worth it. Every second he could spend with Lucy - he'd take it. He dove from the stage and fell flat on his face. He could feel the tension like a thick fog and knew that what he was about to do would change his afterlife forever. Nevertheless, he ran into the crowd, found Lucy, grabbed her hand.

"Do you trust me?" He whispered. He saw her pale face with every flash of the lights grow more serious.

"Wait, what? What's going on, Tom?"

Taking her hand he shed his jacket and put it around her. "We gotta get outta 'ere before we become yestaday's garbage." He pulled her behind him as they rushed out the front door and away from the commotion.

Stinkie heard glasses breaking and screams erupting from hundreds of guests as he led her quickly to his motorcycle. He scrambled to find the fleshie's keys and handed the spare helmet to Lucy.

"Rather safe 'den sorry," he said, flashing her an awkward smile.

"What is going on?" Lucy demanded again, pushing the helmet away and flashing him a glare.

"I told ya, you gotta trust me!" He snapped back, mounting the seat of the motorcycle.

"I met you two and a half hours ago!" She yelled above the noisy street. "You expect me to get on this machine in blind faith?" She held on to his jacket tightly. At that moment, hundreds of screaming people came flooding out the door. A baseball bat came flying through the window and slammed to the ground, dangerously close to Lucy's feet. A fouls stench filled the air, one that Stinkie knew all too well—the stink bomb he'd spent days perfecting with his brothers. Lucy squeaked and jumped onto the bike, clenching her nose tightly.

"Scoot over!" She yelled wrapping both her arms around his torso. Stinkie stopped to catch his breath, losing himself for a moment when she touched him.

"Put this on!" Stinkie plopped the only helmet onto her small head and she adjusted it, tightening it to the very last fixture.

"Go, go, go!" She hit his back repeatedly and out of impulse he started the motorcycle too fast, jolting them both back quickly.

"You know how to drive this thing, right Tom?" She pleaded.

"Nope!"

Lucy held on tight and together they fled the scene hearing a series of loud cackling behind them, as well as breaking glass and tornado like winds.

Stinkie had never driven a motorcycle before, and he felt the chunks rising from the pit of his stomach like a volcano. He dodged car after car, almost knocking them both off the wheels. He hit a couple of newspaper stands and hit his head with a tree branch once or twice, but somewhere along the way, he found his ground. They zoomed into a parking lot and straight towards a lamp post. Stinkie slammed the breaks and it sent him tumbling over the front of the shield and onto the asphalt.

"Tom!" Lucy squealed, running to his aid. She knelt down beside him, taking off his helmet. His hair was in disarray and he was missing a tooth, but he was still in one piece. She held his head in her hands and Stinkie opened his eyes, dazed.

"Wowzah," he said dizzily looking into her face. She laughed and pushed his hair back.

"You're mental," she said softly.

"Does that mean you gotta take care o' me?"

Lucy blushed and stepped back. "It means you need help, silly," she laughed and pulled him up.

"Nah, I'm fine, I'm fine," he stood and brushed off his jacket. He stood there awkwardly and stuck his hands in his pocket. He made a few inaudible sounds as he inched closer to Lucy.

"I, uh—I—," Stinkie stuttered.

"Tom," Lucy said quietly. She looked up at Stinkie and he felt her eyes burn in his stomach like a hot dog that went down the wrong pipe.

"Thanks for the—ride," she said not breaking eye contact.

"Yeah, uh huh…" He said unable to use his words. Lucy blinked a few times and leaned in. Stinkie felt his heart race, his palms sweat and his thoughts go completely blank. He closed his eyes and leaned in.

It was soft, and quick like a kiss from a bunny, but still…It was magical. She smiled and began to inch backwards, the wind was barely seeping through her hair as the moonlight outlined her whole body making it glow in the dark night.

"Wait," he pleaded regaining his posture. "Where are ya goin'?" He shook his head slightly.

"Home." She said matter-of-factly.

"Ya don't want me to take ya home?" He furrowed his brow.

"Not after that ride." She laughed. "Thank you for the dance though. I'll see you around, Tom." And with that, she turned on her heel and bounced in the direction towards the main road barely making a single noise. Stinkie looked at his watch: 12:30 am. He looked back up in Lucy's direction but she was gone. In fact, she was nowhere in sight.


	8. Chapter 8: A Night To Remembah

Stinkie looked around, from the motorcycle he'd technically stolen, to the place where Lucy just disappeared, and then to the clear sky above him. He couldn't help but think of the ugly fate that awaited him back at the mansion…what would Stretch do to him if he'd seen him kiss a fleshie? Seen him kiss Lucy? And what about her? What would she think if she knew the truth? She wouldn't want anything to do with him, he was sure. But maybe she'd never have to find out the truth… a small rumble in his stomach interrupted his thinking. His head shook, and he watched as his limbs began to twitch spastically. Falling to the ground, he arched his back and felt his eyes roll to the back of his head. This pinhead was finally fighting back, he'd almost forgotten he was in someone else's body.

Stinkie felt for the widest exit and slithered through his victim's mouth like a snake. He slithered across the ground and stretched his arms with a loud groan. He quickly made himself invisible as the lazy lump laying on the ground regained consciousness. Stinkie raced to the nearest high tree branch and sat, watching the specimen lift himself up on his arms and shake his head violently.

"Woah," he looked around, bewildered. Once he got to his feet, he squinted and smoothed his large part back behind his ears. "That was dope." He cracked a grin.

Oh boy, what a brainiac this guy was.

"Wait, where the hell am I?"

Stinkie sighed, looking at his white, transparent hands. As empty-headed as this guy seemed, he had to admit he was more handsome. And more human.

Stinkie shook his head of that. His fairytale night was over and he needed to move on. He sighed and watched the so called, "Tom Browning" hop onto his motorcycle and drive away with ease.

"Pft," Stinkie smirked. "Can't even drive da damn thing right." He sulked on the weathering branch and crossed his arms sporting a pouty look.

After five or so minutes of non productive pouting, Stinkie rose from the branch and began his short trek back to Whipstaff. He felt the wind blow through his body and closed his eyes as he flew. What was this tingly, knot-like feeling in the pit of his tail? Fear? Anxiety? He had't felt anxious since the one time when Stretch disappeared for a week and came back with a drinking problem and a new tattoo on his right bicep.

 _Wait…_ Stinkie stopped mid-flight. _Did I just…remember?_ He rubbed his head. He did…he remembered something from his past. _Stretch… No—no. Vin—Vinnie? Vincent!_ Stinkie pondered this for a moment. And then he was slapped in the face with a cold, hard piece of reality. Stretch. Stretch was going to kick his ass when he got home. He slumped his shoulders, sighed, and glided through the northern sky, completely immune to the blisteringly cold air that nipped at his large nose.

Cutting through the park, he started eyeing people walking hand in hand along the garden paths he found himself lost in his own thoughts, eventually wandering back to the shape of Lucy's hips and how they swayed to the loud music at the ball. The way her hair bounced when she ran, how her lips were so small and perfectly sculpted and—

"No!" He yelled in exasperation. He held his head and shook it. _Stop it, stop it, stop it!_ He thought. "Get a hold o' yaself!" He slapped his face and shook his head. "She's a human, you's an undead apparition."

"But maybe…" he began to slip into a daze, but caught himself. "No, no, no! Gah!" He grabbed his head and bent forward, trying to shake the thought of Lucy right out of his ears. "I gotta get outta 'ere."

Stinkie flew in silence and watched as the color from the sky seemed to drain to an opaque grayish tone. He approached the mansion and hovered in the air with a solum frown.

"Well," he sighed. "'Ere goes nothin'."

He flew through the doors and looked around slowly. No movement, no sounds. Shoulders slumping in relief, he began to ascend the staircase to his room, trying not to make a sound. When he entered through the wall he wasn't met with two sleeping ghosts, but four eyes glowing red with anger.

"What da hell was you thinkin'?" Stretch snapped, squinting his eyes in a glare.

"You left us, alone on da battlefield!" Fatso mimicked severing his head and held it in his hands, playing dead.

"Things coulda gone a lot woise," Stretch looked Fatso's way and smirked. "But you still abandoned ya duty! Ya left all google eyed with some air sucker!" Stretch popped his eyes out and wiggled his long, nimble fingers. Stinkie floated in the doorway rubbing his arm, feeling shame crawl up his neck.

"I know, I know. I'm a lousy brotha, I 'eard it all before," he sighed and sat on his bed with a frown.

"What was goin' on in that big, head a yours, huh?" Stretch's voice softened, much to Stinkie's surprise he looked genuinely upset.

"I was…" Stinkie began, Fatso and Stretch leaning in close with suspicious eyes.

"Yeah?" They said in unison.

It was at that moment when there was a loud banging on the door, and Stinkie added this interruption to his short list of blessings, grateful that he wouldn't have to answer his brothers' prying questions, for the time being.

"Open up!" Kat called from outside the door, her voice raised in anger.

"Hey, no girls allowed!" Fatso pulled the covers up to his chest and squeaked. "I don't have my boxers on!"

Kat barged in with her face glowing red like a Christmas tree ornament.

"What," she said gripping the doorknob. "…was that?"  
"Good evening to you too, Kitty Kat," Stretch snickered.

"Thank you for gracing us wit your presence," Stinkie muttered and crossed his arms.

"Don't play games with me, slick. What the hell was that?" She was practically fuming.

"What?" They all questioned, feigning innocence.

"Quit playing dumb! You guys totally wrecked the whole party! The entire town is traumatized and the whole school's gonna think I had something to do with it!" She crossed her arms and huffed. "'There goes Kat, the freaky ghost girl!' Remember the halloween party?"

"Poor kid," Stretch pouted his lower lip. "Did you hear dat boys? The whole school is gonna be talkin'!" They all held their hands to their faces in fear and laughed.

"It's a hard knock death, for us! It's a hard knock death for us!" They sang, crowding her as she sulked.

"I was just trying to do something nice for Lucy! Now she's never gonna leave her room."

"Well ain't that a damn shame," Stretch said sarcastically. "Now we'll nevah get to see dat freak, Lulu." He snickered along with his brothers. But behind his smug chuckle, Stinkie felt a burning feeling in his chest at Stretch's snide comment.

"It's _Lucy,_ " Kat said under her breath. "All three of you stay away from her. The last thing she needs is the likes of you making things more complicated for her." She waved her pointed finger towards all of them. Fatso threw up his hands in surrender.

"Oh it's so hard being an air breather, oh my shoes are too tight, oh I didn't get asked to the dance, oh I have bills to pay, oh _bleh_!" Stretch waved his hand. "Better for us that we don't have to die another day to see _anothah_ fleshie in _our_ domicile. Now get out." Stretch opened the door and held out his hand.

Kat turned on her heel and stomped out the door in a huff, the Ghostly Trio bobbing their heads out one by one, watching as she headed down the hall.

"Sweet nightmares, Kitty Kat!" Stretch sing sung.

"Don't forget, the bats _smell_ fear!" Fatso called.

"'Stead of kisses, we get killed, 'stead of livin' we are dead, it's a hard knock life!" They sang together falling back on their beds, rolling with laughter.

"'Dat nevah gets old," Stretch said wiping tear from his eye.

"Wind her up and watch her _goooo…_ " Fatso made himself into a deflating balloon and spun around the room.

"Well boys I'm butched," Stretch yawned, his mouth expanding about two feet. "I'm gonna get some shut eye for da night." He cooed and snuggled under the covers, situating himself into a comfortable, rolled up position.

"But first a midnight snack," Fatso reached into his pillow and pulled out a footlong hoagie, swallowing the whole thing in one bite.

He rubbed his belly and smacked a few times before settling into bed. They were both snoring within a matter of seconds. Instead of his usual routine however, Stinkie stretched his arms and propped his hands under his head. He lay that way for a long while, unable to sleep. And then he did something even more curious, he reached from under his bead and pulled out a small knit blanket that was folded neatly in a wooden box and smelled it. He sighed and held it close turning on his side. Kat's words were ringing in his head: "All three of you stay away from her…" Then a scary, more unsettling thought crossed his mind scape, giving him goosebumps down his non-existent pale arms: _Maybe I don't want to stay away from Lucy…_

He sat up and rubbed his face. He needed some milk. Yea, yea, milk sounded good. He looked at his brothers to make sure they were sound asleep and slowly rose from his bed and snuck out the door and down the stairs to the kitchen.

* * *

Lucy was awake too, but instead she was busying herself with charm making since the last one had failed so terribly. She swore to herself to be more careful this time. She glanced at the balcony and glided over, opening the door to let in the moonlight.

"Like Ona said, just a pinch will do the trick."

She carefully opened the cork of a tiny, glass vial, and held it up towards the moon ever so slightly. Her small hand shook and she nearly dropped it trying to seal it back again. Once closed, she blew a strand of hair out of her face and sighed.

Gliding over to the table, she set down the vial and picked up a small piece of parchment, squinting at the small print.

"Three tears, check. Strand of hair, check," Lucy winced and glanced upward. "Full moon, moonlight…check." She straightened her back and smiled. "And last but not least," She read and shot back in exhaustion. "Rosemary? Really, Ona?" She let her hand fall and looked towards the door. "Surely Casper wouldn't mind if I snuck some from the kitchen…" she set down the parchment and slipped on her nightgown.

Carefully, she draped a silk cloth over the bowl and headed quietly out the door. She glanced at Kat and Casper's room, hoping they'd still be asleep. Both doors were closed. The realm of the Ghastly Trio, closed. The snoring was prevalent. She deemed it safe to wander onward to the kitchen. She looked at the main hall from the staircase and smiled. She'd never seen it late at night before. The moon was radiant and shown through the large windows surrounding the room. It was peaceful and quiet, yet solemn at the same time.

She stepped lightly and quickly down he stairs and made her way through the kitchen. She popped her head in the doorway. Empty. She sighed in relief and made her way looking through the cabinets, searching for a spice rack of sorts. She grabbed what looked like a bottle of rosemary and examined it. Success! She did a small victory dance and turned on her heel and walked the opposite direction of the counter.

Just as she turned, she tripped and fell flat on her face, dropping the rosemary bottle with a _thump_. She sat up and rubbed her head, and hesitantly lifted her gaze. The two brown eyes that met hers almost made her wet herself. She froze in place and felt her joints stiffen. She couldn't speak, she couldn't move…she couldn't do anything. She was staring straight at Stinkie, the one she had ran into completely naked just a week before.

His appearance was almost laughable, his eyes bloodshot and droopy, there was milk stained on his mouth and floor marks on the side of his face. But Lucy was in no laughing mood.

"I…" she tried to speak but no words were coming out.

"Um…at least you ain't naked this time…?" Stinkie blurted out awkwardly. Lucy felt her cheeks turn bright red. Stinkie shook his head and floated upwards. He held out his hand for her to take and she eyed it suspiciously.

"I'm sorry I was such a jerk beforah," he said, not retracting his hand. Lucy nodded and slowly took it in hers. It was cold, tingly, and unlike anything she'd felt before. She stood up and looked at the broken glass on the floor.

"Ah don't worry, short sheet'll get it tomorrow mornin'." He shrugged and smiled. Noticing her blank expression his smile slipped away and he cleared his throat.

Lucy tried to stifle a grin but felt more like she'd passed gas. How awkward could this possibly get? She motioned with her mouth while looking at his rugged appearance.

"Oh, what, 'dis? It's just milk. Couldn't sleep… so—I—fell asleep on da floor."

She chuckled lightly and he immediately stood up straighter.

"I came to get rosemary," she said, glancing at the floor. "That didn't really work out."

"Yea, yea I'll be feelin' that tomorrow," he held his tail up in one hand as if to examine it for bruises.

"Sorry," Lucy said, looking at her feet.

"Oh that's nothin'! In da summa o' '79 me and my bortha's, we was wrestlin' see," he motioned with his hands. "And Fatso dog piled me so hard on the tail that it was crooked for a week." He laughed to himself.

Lucy realized that this was the first time she'd seen him genuinely smile. No maliciousness, just happy memories. He met her glance and she got butterflies in her stomach. She thought back to the photo she'd seen of that same, kind smile.

"Lucy?" He asked.

"Huh?" She snapped back into reality and caught herself staring. "Right, sorry. Still pretty tired, I guess."

"No I mean…can we start ovah?" He looked at her pleadingly.

Lucy squinted suspiciously.

Immediately, Stinkie threw his hands in the air. "No gimmicks, da boys are still asleep. Just little ole' me."

She thought for a moment, then held out her hand.

"My name is Lucy Gilliam. It's nice to meet you."

He grinned and took her hand in his. "Mine's Stinkie. Pleased to meet ya." They shook hands and smiled at one another.

She shot back a little upon touching his hand, still not used to the feeling of literally touching the undead.

"You're, you're freezing!" She examined her hand and made a face.

"Yeah well, you get used to it aftah, I dun know, a century give or take?" He looked at his hand.

"You know, you're nicer than I thought you were," Lucy pulled the sleeve of her shirt over her cold fingers, smiling at Stinkie's look of surprise.

"You're not as weird as I thought you were."

Wow, what a compliment. "Gee, thanks." Immediately she saw him become very flustered, scrambling to remedy his mistake.

"Well I didn't think you was weird, or a freak, I mean I did, but that was before I—" his cheeks went red during his struggle to come up with an excuse.

"Stinkie?"

"Yeah?" He asked quietly in a cute, sheepish voice.

"I was kidding…"

Stinkie moved his lips in an attempt to say something, but just paused and lowered his hand.  
"Right."

There was an awkward moment of silence that filled the room, other than the pale moonlight that shone through the windows. Lucy tapped her fingers on the kitchen counter and Stinkie sniffed a couple of times. The one minute that consisted of no talking felt like it would go on forever. Finally, Lucy laughed slightly and furrowed her brow.

"Why 'Stinkie?'" She asked him. He pondered this question and tapped his large nose slightly.

"I…" he looked slightly bemused. "…I don't know." He laughed slightly. "Must've been because of somethin' when I was a fleshie."

"You mean, you don't remember your past life?" Lucy felt sorry for the ghost.

"Nada. It's been so long—since I—'remembered' anythin'," he motioned with air quotations. "I don't think I even remembah my own name." He said blankly, looking at the ground.

Lucy was silent. She'd seen memory blips and amnesia before, but nothing like this…

"Sometimes I wish _I_ could forget," she said quietly, closing her eyes.

"What? A pretty girl like you? What do you have to forget?" He said, showing his front buck teeth.

"A lot," she began fiddling with her hands.

"At least you can remembah."

Lucy looked at him and flattened her mouth.

"I don't even know what color my hair was. Did I even _have_ any hair? I wouldn't know!" His eyes widened in distress.

"…do you want to find out?" Lucy asked, biting her lip.

Lucy and Stinkie navigated the mansion to find the attic. Lucy had to admit, she wasn't good at a lot of things, but she did have a wicked good memory. Through passageways and up staircases, Stinkie and her ventured until they found the attic door.

"Is this da attic?" He asked, frowning.

"Yeah, come on!" She grabbed his hand and pulled him inside the door.

Stinkie looked around, bewildered by all the old stuff piled all the way to the ceiling. Lucy stood with her hands behind her back next to the chest where she'd found the teddy bear. She felt a warm feeling in her stomach as she watched him slowly explore his surroundings.

"I was up here the other day looking for a costume for the party and…" Stinkie looked up at her wildly and froze.

"The pahty?" He exclaimed with fear in his eyes.

"Yeah…? The masquerade party? You guys made fun of…my dress." She frowned, the sickening feeling slowly creeping back into her mind as well as the bad jokes they'd made about her, Kat, and Casper.

"They pushed me into it," he interjected quickly. "You looked—" Stinkie froze. "…nice."

Lucy smiled and shook her head.

"Anyways," he continued, "I wouldn't know anything about that party, cause I wasn't there." He gulped holding up his pointer finger and one hand behind his back.

"Right…" she said, perplexed. He sure was acting odd all of the sudden considering the calm demeanor he'd just had on the way to the attic. "…anyway, Kat, Casper, and I came across a lot of…memorabilia." Stinkie raised an eyebrow and made his way over to her slowly.

Stinkie opened the chest slowly, and Lucy peered over his shoulder and watched, with caution. Once it was open, he stared blankly at every object. He brushed his hand over the picture frame and picked it up, rubbing a finger over the sly grin the man in the picture held.

"Is that you?" Lucy asked, kneeling down and resting her arm on the rim of the chest. He nodded slowly.

"I think we got our answer," he said seriously.

"To what?" She looked up, worried.

"I _did_ have hair," he held up the picture and made the same, cunning grin as photographed in the picture.

Lucy got that burning feeling in the pit of her stomach again. She could see it now, the same kind brown eyes, and the same large nose. She giggled and moved around some more objects in the chest for him to examine. They both laughed at some old pictures of Stinkie and his brothers, and the ridiculous outfits they bore from old bowties to slicked back hair. Stinkie pointed out how tall Stretch was, even in his youth.

"He got teased _all_ da time for bein' so tall. The kids in town called him 'Stretch'. Dat's how he got 'is nickname." Stinkie smiled imitating a face Stretch had made in another photo. "You can imagine how Fatso got _his_ nickname." He snickered, causing Lucy to hit him lightly on the shoulder.

"So? How'd you get yours?" She asked now completely mesmerized by his stories.

Stinkie rummaged through he chest and held up picture of him, in overalls with a straw hat, masking his unkept hair. He was smiling widely.

"Heh," He muttered. "I spent most o' my time in my uncle's barn…and I hated takin' showers." He pointed to the cows in the pictures.

Lucy snorted and buried her head in her arm.

"I'd be out there for days at a time, until we moved to…" he furrowed his brow. "Whipstaff." He looked around and wiped his nose. He set the picture down and froze for a moment. He reached in and pulled out the teddy bear Lucy had found.

His reaction was surprising; Stinkie fiddled with the torn ears and the red satin bow, almost completely faded to a sickly grey color. He was focusing so hard on the bear, Lucy wondered if he even noticed she was still there. She reached over and put a calm hand on his arm. He jumped and smiled halfway, then sunk back into his serious demeanor.

"Stinkie?" She asked quietly.

"Hmm?" He asked, but didn't look up from the bear in his clutch.

"Are you alright?"

"…It's just…" He stroked its head softly. "I think I'm remembahrin' some 'a da bad stuff is all. 'Is name's Boo." Lucy smiled. "Sometimes it was just me and Boo against the world. From nightmares to Pa's outbreaks, 'dis lil guy served me well. 'E was especially handy for my panic attacks." He mused. "Heh, Ma thought I was possessed by demons or somethin'! Ain't that a hoot?" He laughed ad Lucy forced a nervous chuckle. "I remembah it gettin' better for a while aftah Charlie came to Whipstaff. But then woise again aftah…" He slumped his shoulders. "Never mind." He said closing his eyes.

Lucy sat straight up and startled Stinkie to the point of dropping the teddy bear in through his lap and onto the ground.

"Geez! What's your deal? Got bugs in ya pants or somethin'?" He asked.

"You remembered," she said, looking straight at Stinkie. His smiled faded into a look of sheer surprise

"I—I remembahed?" He stared at his shaking hands. Lucy stood up and laughed putting her hands to her mouth.

"You remembered!"

Stinkie looked at her and scooped her up into a hug.

They laughed and twirled in the air for a split second. For a split second they departed with their hands intertwined. And for a split second Lucy felt something. But it didn't last. They both let go instantly smiled awkwardly. Lucy fiddled with her hair and looked at the ground. They avoided each others' glance, but their eyes soon met again. They each let out a sigh and Lucy could feel her cheeks blushing furiously.

"Well, Congratulations!" Lucy held out her hand and Stinkie shook it firmly.

"Couldn't have done it without you." He said. "Thank you."

Lucy waved her hand and made a raspberry with her mouth.

"Oh it was nothing." Another moment of silence. "Hey, listen. I'm gonna head back downstairs…"

Stinkie nodded and rubbed his arm.

"You should stay up here a while, if you want." She suggested.

Stinkie smiled and looked around and back at the chest.

"Yeah, I think I will. I've got some remembering to do."


	9. Chapter 9: Flyin' Solo

_A small boy, just approaching his thirteenth year, lay under the covers with a thick cloth over his sickly, pale forehead. A croaky, hoarse cough escaped from his blue lips , and beads of sweat dotted his temples. As he approached the archway, Stinkie's view of the boy grew larger - more gruesome. There were five other people in the room, sitting in silence, not one daring to move. Stinkie put a sympathetic hand on the shoulder of the man sitting in a small rocking chair with his fingers tightly clasped around the back of his neck, his rounded glasses hanging loosely off the tip of his nose._

 _"Brother," the man said, rising from his fatigue. He brought him in for a tight hug and a firm pat on the back. He beckoned Stinkie out into the hallway where the December snowflakes piled up against the hallway window._

 _"How's he holding up, J.T.?" He asked quietly. J.T. shook his head slowly and wiped his face with a sigh. He glanced at the boy through the doorway and lowered his voice._

 _"We'll be lucky if he makes it until Monday evening," he said closing his eyes._

 _"He was fine, just last week," Stinkie said._

 _J.T. nodded and adjusted his loosened tie. "Well, Dr. Peterson said the best thing we could do is to keep him comfortable." He didn't take his eyes off the boy lying in the bed, holding onto his last inch of life._

 _Stinkie looked in his hand at a small paper bag he'd been carrying. He walked slowly towards the boy, kneeling down gently next to him and giving him a smile._

 _"Uncle Joey…?" A vague smile flickered on the boy's face._

 _"Hey kid," he rubbed his forehead and moved a couple of stray, sweaty blonde hairs out f his eyes with his thumb. "How ya hangin' in there?"_

 _The boy answered with a shriveled cough and a wheeze in pain. "My chest hurts." He looked over at the woman standing by his bedside, a rag in her hand and a bowl in the other. A solum but kind expression rested on her tired face. She looked down at the rag and squeezed it lightly._

 _"Your mama's taking good care o' you," Stinkie said, facing the woman._

 _She smiled and relaxed her shoulders. Even though her hair was pulled up a few strands were running astray, and her eyes were bloodshot._

 _"I know," the boy said, so faint it was barely audible. "That's what she does best." Stinkie looked over at the last two men sitting close to the boy's mother, and a shorter woman clutching one of them on the bicep tightly. He broke free of her grasp and stood. Gently, he reached forward to squeeze the tired woman's hand. He bent to kiss her lightly on the forehead, but said nothing, only looking at her son with a pained expression on his face. The other sat with his large hands hiding his mouth, fighting back tears._

 _He looked back at the boy. "Hey, um, short stack, I've got something for ya…" Stinkie reached into the bag and pulled out Boo, his teddy bear and oldest companion. "Now, Boo here is very special. Promise you'll take care a' 'im for me?" He handed the beat up stuffed animal to the sickly boy, who nodded slowly and reached out his hands. A shiver ran through the room as he exposed his darkened, dead looking fingertips. Stinkie flinched and closed his eyes, instantly regretting it as the boy began to cry softly._

 _"I'm scared, Mama, I'm so scared…"_

 _His mother sat on the edge of the bed and pressed her lips to his forehead, whispering softly to him. "Shhh, it's okay to be scared, love. But everything is going to be okay." She gently wiped the sweat away with the cloth and smiled reassuringly._

 _Stinkie staggered away to the corner, still clutching the bag between his sweaty palms. He bit his lip in worry at her slightly forced expression._

 _The boy shivered under his covers. "Am I going to die?" He asked quietly._

 _"Hush, you shouldn't speak of such things," the worry became more obvious in her voice now._

 _"It's okay, mother, please don't cry," he said. "Please, mama…"_

"Uncle Stinkie…?" Stinkie woke with a start, his hands draped over the side of an old, velvet arm chair situated in a dark corner. To his surprise, Boo was caught in the high clutch of his right hand. He blinked a few times and shook his head violently, coming eye to eye with a very confused Casper. Stinkie squinted and saw the same blue eyes that had blinked up at him from the dying boy.

He felt like the heart he once had would burst.

"Oh, Casper!" With wide eyes he flew right towards him and scooped him up into a hug, twirling him around in the air. It only took Stinkie about a minute to realize what had just happened—it took Casper about five seconds.

"Um, Uncle Stinkie…?" Casper said, his voice muffled in his uncles embrace. Stinkie opened his eyes and let go immediately, his face twisting in confusion.

"Casper…I…"

"Are we interrupting something…?" Lucy and Kat appeared in the doorway, their expressions blank. His face cleared when he saw Lucy, she was so cute and—uh oh, he was starting to stare.

"Nothin'…just—just tellin' Bulbhead ova 'ere to mind 'is own business." He grumbled, crossing his arms.

"But you—" Casper began to say.

"…have business to take care of—business that ain't yours." With that, he huffed and flew out of the room, unable to hide how flustered he was. The teddy bear fell from his grip and onto the dusty ground.

"Stinkie, wait," Lucy tried to grab his arm, but her hand went straight through his nonexistent skin. She drew back her hand quickly, sighing. She knelt down and picked up the teddy bear, dusting it off carefully.

Without looking back, Stinkie flew down the stairs, feeling his cheeks flush with embarrassment. And what was this warm feeling in his chest? He scoffed and shivered, trying to rid himself of the fuzzy sensation.

What a no good, terrible, awful way to start off the morning. Finally, he had a decent run in with Lucy and he blew it, all sky high. But what had happened? A dream? A memory? He hadn't had one of those in a long time, especially not one with such familiar faces. Lost in his thoughts, he glided down to the kitchen, losing track of his brothers' whereabouts and not giving a second thought to the harsh judgment that would most likely follow.

Upon entering the kitchen doors he found an unsuspecting James humming the "Munster's" theme song rather loudly while pouring himself a glass of milk. Stinkie took advantage of this opportunity and disappeared into the countertop, popping out just as James raised the glass to his lips.

"Mornin' Doc!" He yelled, cackling aloud as James choked violently on his spilled milk. He slammed the glass down clutching his chest and coughing.

"Notin' like a good ole' mornin' scare to get the blood a' pumpin'!" He laughed, diving for the fridge door. James gave him a sour look and wiped his mouth on his sleeve as Stinkie took a long, sarcastic sip of orange juice straight from the jug.

"I thought it safe to assume we were past the jump scares. Guess I shouldn't have jumped to such radical conclusions," he shook his head.

"You know what 'dey say Doc!" Stinkie smiled and put his arm around him. "Makes an ass outta you," he jabbed a finger at James's chest, "…and me!" He held the jug in his hand this time and took a large sip before slamming it down on the counter and letting out a loud and satisfying belch.

"Always a pleasure Stinkie," James forced a patient smile. "Are your brothers up yet? Your session starts in five minutes."

"Is it time ta undermine our feelings and listen to all your wishy washy medical talk?" Stinkie stuck out his tongue and made James chuckle lightly.

"You mean like 'defense mechanisms'?"

Stinkie frowned and rolled his eyes. "I ain't ' _defensive'_!" He said in a mocking tone.

James gave him a look. "I'll see you in my office in three minutes."

* * *

Stinkie sat twiddling his thumbs together, alone and stranded on an old red couch across from a silent James. With one leg crossed and his bent glasses perched on the tip of his nose he looked ready to probe and dissect Stinkie's every word with razor sharp precision. He tapped his pencil on his clipboard lightly.

"It's so rare that I get solo sessions with any of you. Ever." He raised his eye brows. "And, I've been anxious to talk to you."

"Why, little ole' me?" Stinkie flashed some fake eyelashes and chuckled to himself, but his shoulders dropped when he glanced around and found the rest of the couch unoccupied.

"Not so easy when your brothers aren't around?" James asked quietly.

Stinkie felt like he might blow chunks—and not the good kind. He thought back to his dream, and all the photos and memorabilia he'd found in the attic thanks to Lucy—Lucy. Oh right, Lucy.

"…Stinkie?" James snapped his fingers. Stinkie shook his head and blinked.

"Wha…?"

"I asked how you're feeling today."

Stinkie was silent. How _was_ he feeling today? He'd never really thought about it before. He hadn't spent a night alone in over a century…he never really thought he'd enjoy the solitude so much.

James frowned and tilted his head. "Try the mood chart!" He quickly pulled out a long, laminated chart with a multitude of faces on them, all with corresponding feelings. "What face do you identify with today, Stinkie?" He asked, almost giddy.

Stink squinted and looked over every face. There was number one, which showcased a green face and puffy cheeks titled, "icky". He liked that one a lot. But then another, a face that was misshapen and had wide eyes, called "anxious". He liked that one too. But the one that caught his attention the most was a solemn face, tinted blue. This was called "a little blue". Unconsciously he pointed to it and mimicked that face on the paper.

"You're feeling blue?" James asked a little surprised. Stinkie rubbed his forehead and lifted his tail to exit the room.

"Maybe this ain't such a good idea, Doc."

James quickly jumped to his feet and shook his hands.

"No, no, no! You're finally opening up about you innermost feelings! This is phenomenal progress, Stinkie! We must proceed!"

Stinkie reluctantly sat down and crossed his arms.

"Why don't we start with _why_ you're feeling blue," he picked up his pencil and scribbled something on his clipboard.

"I—uh…heh…" he rubbed the back of his crooked neck slowly, trying to think of something to say. "I had a dream last night, or at least what I _think_ was a dream."

James nodded slowly, urging him to continue.

"What happened in the dream, Stinkie?" He asked.

As he thought back on the events of the dream, it made Stinkie feels something he hadn't in a long time—sadness. True, raw sadness.

"See, dere was a room, with lots of people in it," he motioned with his hands. "…And a boy, laying sick in bed. I think it was…Casper." His voice softened.

James stopped writing immediately and furrowed his brow.

"What did he look like, Casper?" He said shifting his legs into the chair.

Stinkie shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"It was awful, Doc. He was pale and sweaty and coughin' a whole lot." He caught a consoling look from James, and this made him feel strangely vulnerable. "I brought him my old teddy bear, Boo. And his mother was there wid' 'im…. wipin' his tears."

"Perhaps, this was how Casper passed?"

Stinkie nodded. "And…" he stopped in his tracks, trying to remember. "J.T. was there too."

"Who is J.T.?" He asked.

"John…" Stinkie said pounding the couch lightly with his fist. "John…Thomas. My brothah. Our brothah. But… that's all I can remembah." James looked at Stinkie with a consoling glance.

"But 'ey, I ain't losing sleep ovah it, I mean, he's a ghost like us now anyways." He said stiffening his back.

"One you constantly belittle, bully, and take your anger out on?"

Stinkie shrunk back into the couch with each word.

"You know, you don't have to conceal your feelings, not even from your brothers," he continued, furrowing his brow. "Not here."

"Pfft, I nevah shoulda went through all my old stuff. It brought me nothin' but old, sad memories. I'm already dead, they can't do me any good now!" Stinkie shook his head miserably.

"They could, you know."

Stinkie shot him a disbelieving look.

James sighed and sat quiet for a moment, thinking. "You mean to say, that the objects you found somehow spawned this phenomena? That they caused you to actually _remember_ an important moment for your life?"

"I don't know if you'd call it _important_ …." he said, cautiously.

"John Hopkins!" James exclaimed, suddenly. "A breakthrough!" He laughed so hard that his glasses nearly fell off his nose. "A whole year of shenanigans, pranks and some ruined trousers and we're finally getting somewhere!" He jumped up from his chair and stopped in mid dance, clearing his throat.

Stinkie sat there picking from his ear and pulling out an impressive amount of slimy, green, earwax. James sat back down and brushed off his sweater-vest. "I mean, excellent job, Stinkie, this means we're making progress at last." He beamed at the ghost.

"To be poifectly honest wit ya Doc, I'm not sure exactly what it is I did to get ya knickers in such a twist," he crossed his arms, still miffed.

"Stinkie don't you see?" James said. "We're another step closer to figuring out your unfinished business. What made you deny your right to a happy and peaceful afterlife…why you didn't cross over."

"Oh brothah, are you still on about that, Doc? If we've told ya once, we've told ya a million times. We ain't crossin' ovah, because we like bein' ghosts! We're meant to be here," he growled.

"We?" James, said squinting.

Stinkie followed James' look to the empty cushions beside him and scowled.

" _Me,_ " he said defensively, pointing a thumb to his chest.

"You said 'we'. Curious. You don't do things without your brothers very often do you?"

"Why the hell would I wanna do that?" He crossed his arms. "They're all I got in this afterlife."

James smiled and nodded, writing down on his clipboard.

"Whataya smirkin' at, huh?" He snapped.

"I want to know how _you_ feel. You, Stinkie." James pointed to him with his pencil.

"About what?" He asked surprised.

"How do _you_ feel about crossing over?"

"Okay Doc, I'll play your game…" he sulked. "Say I do crossover. Leave my brothahs here. Abandon them. Leave the only home I've ever haunted. _Bullshit_. I ain't goin' nowhere."

James was silent but nodded. A couple of awkward moments went by and nothing was said, leaving Stinkie frustrated. Why wasn't Doc saying anything? Judging him no doubt. "You know you act like you know everything but you don't know us! And you sure as hell don't know me," He snarled.

"I have my guesses," he said calmly.

Stinkie waved his hand derisively. "Be my guest, but you's wrong, whatever your little _guesses_ are," he said, pompously.

"Well, Stinkie…I'm detecting fear in your voice. Hesitation. You're scared to be alone. We could've easily moved on in this process months ago if you'd been willing to, any of you three. But that would bring about the possibility of leaving your brothers behind, and perhaps the possibility that there's no one waiting for you on the other side." He tapped his pencil. "Am I close?"

"Couldn't be further from the truth," Stinkie lied, James's words burning straight through his head like a bullet.

"I see," James said. "Then let's move on. What else can you tell me about the dream?"

"Nothin'. I told you I don't remember anything else, 'bout it."

"Is it possible you've tried to subconsciously block all the memories due to early childhood trauma?" James asked, point blank.

"Look, Doc," he shot up. "While I was goin' through all da pictures and da old toys, it just made me realize how much I love bein' dead! Dead, dead, dead. Dead as a doornail. And that I never want to relive anything from when I was alive!" He crossed his arms, feeling pleased with himself.

"Yet, here you are." James smiled.

"Me bein' a ghost ain't got nothin' to do with my old life. That part of me died a long time ago."

James shook his head and set down his clipboard. "But don't you see? It has everything to do with your life. All this denial and emptiness is holding you back from crossing into the light. And you know what, Stinkie? You've just gotten so lost, putting on this act, playing the clown, masking your unhappiness that you've completely lost sight of it and how to get back on your feet." James crossed his leg and picked up his clipboard again. "You've all forgotten who you are. It's clearest to me now that the living impaired suffer far more than the living could ever imagine."

A long moment of silence hung in the air, thickening the solemn mood. Finally, Stinkie spoke.

"…so who am I then, Doc?" Stinkie asked.

"Well, if you accept my help, maybe we can come to find out together. Your brothers too!"

Stinkie fiddled with a stray piece of fabric, detaching itself from the rest of the couch and twisted it between his fingers.

"I'm not proposing that it'll be easy, and there might be some painful things to uncover. But it's all part of the process of crossing over." James said softly.

"Right…crossing over."


	10. Chapter 10: Memory Lane

Hey reader! So just a small but VERY important note, I updated some things in chapter 3, which are pertinent to the understanding of Lucy's backstory which is also I very prominent part of this chapter. When you've got a second, back track a little and re-read chapter 3. Sorry for the delay and enjoy the story!

* * *

Lucy hovered near the door way, clutching the teddy bear in her clammy hands. She felt her shoulders drop and her eyebrows relax after watching Stinkie exit the room.

"Geez, what was that about?" Casper asked. He looked to Kat with wide eyes.

"Beats me. This doesn't seem like his usual, unpleasant funk," Kat said, crossing her arms. "Eh, what do I care." She picked up a box with two dusty handles. Casper looked uneasily at Lucy, who looked towards the door, and back Kat. Kat caught their hesitant glances and set down the box in a huff.

"Oh, come on you two," she said, crossing her arms. Her large maroon flannel sagged from her elbows like drapes. "Don't tell me you even give a second thought about that brutish poltergeist." They were silent. Kat groaned and tucked her hair behind her ears.

"Well, he is my uncle," Casper shrugged.

"Some uncle he's turned out to be… he acts like a high school bully. Treats you like a punching bag. I mean, he's dunked Casper's head in the toilet at least two times this month!"

"There have been good times," Casper let his head fall slightly.

"Child abuse may I remind you," Kat said, setting her weight on one foot.

"Hey, I'm not a 'child'!" Casper squinted his eyes and air quoted.

"Oh excuse me," she said waving her hands. "You're a one-hundred and thirteen year old who still plays with his train sets."

"Collector's items!" Casper said defiantly.

Lucy found herself giggling behind her hand, trying to hide a smile. She glanced at the teddy bear she was still holding and felt its red satin bow. Finding a vacant shelf in the corner, she set it down and pet its head softly. Much to her dismay, her thoughts drifted to Stinkie, and then to his soft brown eyes. She mulled over every insult and every tease, and oddly enough it didn't burn so much.

"Uh, earth to Lucy?" Kat said crossing her arms.

"Huh?" She asked blushing.

"Geez, ever since last night you've been distant, Luc." Kat gave her a look and crossed her arms. "What happened?"

Lucy shrugged. "I was…" she began. "…with Stinkie…" She tightened her eyes to a mere squint.

"What?" Kat and Casper cried in sync.

Lucy flattened her lips.

"Did he blackmail you?" Kat asked rushing to her side.

"No," Lucy said sharply.

"Did he threaten you with his stink?" Casper put a consoling hand on her shoulder.

"No, no nothing like that!" Lucy said pushing past them. She placed her hand on the side of her arm and sighed, glancing at the chair where Stinkie had sat.

"We just…talked." She said. "He even remembered some stuff."

"You've got to be kidding me," Kat said, with a dry roll of her eyes.

"He's not as bad as you think, you know," Lucy snapped.

"Not as bad—what are you talking about? The ghoul is a nightmare, a stink fest. Breath, personality, and all."

"No, he's—sweet. Gentle. A little clumsy and very awkward but, something about him…I don't know. He's changing," Lucy said. She was met with two gaping expressions from her two pals standing bug-eyed across the room.

"What?" She asked defensively.

"It almost sounds like you're crushing on him or something," Kat said.

"What?" Lucy forced a laugh from her pounding chest. "Don't be silly! I'm just saying—he's, he's… changing."

"I don't know Lucy. Uncle Stinkie is a lot of things, but he sure isn't gentle—or, or kind. In fact, he's just the opposite!" Casper said flying closer. "I mean, he _always_ leaves the toilet seat up," he said frowning.

"He greets me in the morning with a wet willy," Kat interjected.

"- he always chews with his mouth open," Casper remarked.

"- brings skunks home for pets," Kat frowned.

"- leaves backwash in the orange juice," Casper added.

"- _and_ he leaves his dirty socks all around the house," Kat said.

" _Look_ ," Lucy sat on a small ottoman lined with purple fringe. "I never said he was a saint. I never said anything! All I meant is that he seems different than before. That's it. That's _all_." She said, surrendering her hands in the air.

"Trust me, that flying nightmare isn't capable of change," Kat said picking up the box she'd been carrying.

"Right…what was I thinking?" She rolled her eyes and thumped her head slightly before getting huffily to her feet.

"Hey Casper get a load of _this_!" Kat said, her head in the box.

"I think I'm gonna go get some water, or go for a walk or something," Lucy sighed, adjusting her hair. "You go ahead without me. I'll catch up with you guys later."

"Are you sure?" Casper said, his large blue eyes hesitant. "I don't know who's out and about this morning. I mean, the house has been suspiciously quiet…" he said glancing around.

"I'll be fine, Casper. I'm the big bad witch remember?" Lucy gestured. "Where are they anyways? I advent heard their usual morning howls."

"Can't expect them to hang around all the time!" Casper said dismissively.

"Yeah, thank God." Kat said under her breath.

"I'll bet Uncle Stretch found himself a few unsuspecting ladies to chase around, and Uncle Fatso probably crashed the local buffet." He chuckled.

"And hey, you can just hex em' with one of your spells if you have a close encounter of the bad kind."Kat snickered.

"Yeah, yeah." Lucy waved a distant hand and headed for the door.

"Oh, Lucy!" Casper flew past her and blocked her path. "Don't actually hex them." Lucy smiled and closed her eyes.

"I wasn't planning on it, Casper." He nodded and wiped his forehead.

"Good. My uncles have never liked witches — not one bit." Lucy's stomach dropped to her feet and she immediately thought of Stinkie.

"It'll be fine, Casper." She said, obviously lying to herself and the blue-eyed, ghostly apparition floating in front of her, perhaps to make herself believe what she was saying was true. "I'm sure they're all just digging up some old graves somewhere." She laughed off her worry, brushed past Casper and headed down the stairwell.

"Oh geez, I hope not. A repeat of last month would _not_ be good." He said cautiously.

"Casper." Lucy heard Kat say plainly. "She's joking." She chuckled lightly.

"Oh, right. I knew that!" Casper said. Lucy laughed to herself and descended down the stairs and into the dimly lit hallway.

And as she wandered the halls of Whipstaff, Lucy allowed herself to become lost; at least for a while. For as long as she was free from the three pain-in-the-ass ghosts breathing down her neck, she could let herself go. She freed her hair from a green scrunchy and ran her fingers through the each lock. She evaluated her situation carefully and the way she saw it, she had two options: she could either run, or she could confess. And she decided on the third, less obvious option. She would deal with all her non-sensical problems later. After all, it really was a most beautiful estate; from the intricate designs lining the walls, to the countless stain glass windows and the antique furniture. It's be a shame not to spend hours admiring its craftsmanship. And after, five minutes of hopeless wandering, Lucy was completely mesmerized.

She guided her hand across the wooden panel that stretched down the halls and felt the smooth surface beneath her finger tips. The air around her smelled like old books; the good kind, where the pages were yellowing and the spines were worn and loved. It almost smelled like her father's old study; the smoke coming from his cigarette and the faint scent of liquor on his breath. His warm and mischievous smile, his tall, lanky figure, and his silver hair. Always in disarray. Her father, whom she hadn't thought of in years. She stopped in her tracks as her mind began to wander farther into the depths of her untouched memories. Before her mother went into a depression, before the accident, and before she was bound the step-family from hell. To the days when she didn't have to suppress her magic.

 _"Greg, don't just stand there! Do something! Your daughter is walking on the walls!" Her mother frantically gestured towards two-year-oldLucy, who had discovered she could mount the walls and had begun to explore places of the home she hadn't been able to reach before. Her father stood in astonishment, laughing and grabbing his hair._

 _"She's a witch!" He picked up her mother and spun her around exclaiming. "Mother of God she's a witch!" He laughed, with a smile as wide as a highway._

 _"Greg! She's headed for the ceiling!" She pointed with a look of horror plastered on her wrinkle-free face. Her red, painted lips were quivering and her blue eyes were watering. "Do something!" She yelled._

 _"Lucy? Lucy Dearest!" He called to her. Lucy's ears perked at the sound of her nickname. She laughed and crawled in place, her eyes filled with excitement for her knew found talent. "Won't you come down and join me for a cup of tea with Mr. Ruffles? I'll bet he'd love to hear about your latest adventure of climbing the walls." Her father put his hands on his hips and raised an eyebrow. Lucy giggled and climbed down, and a loud exasperated gasp escaped her distraught mother._

 _"I'll be damned." She said shaking her head. "Our daughter is a witch.". Her father scooped Lucy into his long arms and threw her in the air gently making her laugh._

 _"Takes after her father." He said with pride._

 _"A troublemaker like her father." She said._

 _"Our Little Moon. Just like Ona said." He half smiled and stroked the hair out of Lucy's eyes and she wrapped her small hands around his neck. "Can you believe it?" He said beaming at his daughter._

 _"Not if you paid me a million dollars." She said dryly. He pulled them both not a large embrace and they sat on the floor together in the middle of their unfinished living room, furniture still in the plastic covers and packed tightly in boxes stacked as high as the ceiling._

 _"My beautiful wife," He kissed Lucy's mother on the forehead. "And my little Lucy Dearest." He said, rubbing noses with Lucy. "How'd I get so lucky?"_

Lucy smiled, recovering memories long since forgotten.

"Lucy Dearest," she reminisced to herself. Suddenly, she sighed and felt the happiness and warm feeling that coated her heart melt away, as soon as she thought back to her mother. Oh, her poor mother. Her tousled black hair in knots, the heavy smell of her father's old alcohol clogging the living room. Her once vibrant blue eyes had turned a sickly gray color. And her tireless effort to suppress any and all magic that Lucy produced and the death of her father took a number on her. She was never the same person again. She glanced at the grandfather clock down the hall, it was almost identical to the one in her old living room.

 _Her mother sat on the dusty old couch clutching the arm for dear life and holding a rosary between her small fingers. She had already begun to wrinkle prematurely. A twelve year old Lucy stood in the doorway, her mother looking like a stranger. She picked the hairs off her teddy bear and rubbed her thumbs over it's glass eyes. Glancing at the grandfather clock, she realized her mother had been sitting quietly for three hours_

 _"Mama," she said quietly. Her mother looked up from the sofa and blinked, smiling weakly._

 _"Lucy," she said quietly. "Come here," she held out her arms and Lucy came running. She hadn't spoken to her all afternoon. Snuggling up into her mother's arms, she pressed her ear to her chest and listened to her slow heartbeat. She smelled like sweat and musk._

 _"I learned a new trick, Mama," she said smiling, and pulling her wand out of her sock._

 _"That's nice dear…" her mother responded, gripping her temples and wiping migraine-induced sweat from her forehead. Lucy frowned at her all-too familiar indifference. But this time wold be different. This time she would make things right. She whispered an incoherent chant and felt the sadness in her chest dissipate. From the tip of her wand, a white light emerged and formed itself into a a wispy rabbit, which began springing happily about the room._

 _"Look, Mama!" She sat up, excited. Her mother however, didn't share this excitement. She tensed and gripped Lucy by the shoulders._

 _"No, no more. Not in this house!" She took a pillow and chucked it at the bunny with impressive force, causing the once happily hopping rabbit to hop no longer. Lucy felt the tears begin to rise and the heat in her face grow._

 _"Not in this house…" she said again, breathlessly, clutching her chest."Lucy!" She grabbed ahold of Lucy and held on tightly. "Are you alright?"_

 _"Mama, I'm fine! Let go!" She struggled but her mother's grip was tight around her neck. "You're hurting me!" She said._

 _"I'll protect you, Lucille. Magic can't hurt you here," she said, breathing heavily and sobbing into Lucy's hair. "Magic won't hurt you here…" She took Lucy's wand from her small hands and stood from the couch. "This won't be like last time."_

 _"Mama!" She cried. "Mama please give it back!"_

 _"Now, Lucille, this isn't a toy; its a dangerous weapon. And we can only use it for emergencies. You have to understand…" she took it in her hands and walked towards a large chest on top of the mantel piece. With the click of a lock and a sharp exhale, her wand was hidden and locked away. Lucy shook her head and stuttered._

 _"You can't just…my wand!" She exclaimed. "My wand!" She cried. Her mother took the rosary and hugged Lucy tightly._

 _"Someday… someday Lucille, you'll understand. But until then I'll protect you, I'll protect both of us." She stroked her head gently and stood, stumbling because of the pain in her temples._

 _"Dinner's in an hour."_

Lucy diverted her attention from the ringing clock and sighed. She wandered for a few more steps while she let her memory run astray. She wondered when things went so wrong. Oh, right. _Amos._

 _"…And then I told him, 'Reverend, if you allow folks to act on lustful and homosexual desires under this roof, how can you call yourself a prophet of God? More like false prophet if you ask me.' And he told me if I was so high and mighty, maybe I should run the church myself. And so, come Tuesday mornin', I was Blossomhollow's new Reverend." Amos said, his mouth full of Lucy's mother's signature stir fry recipe. A.k.a, her father's favorite meal._

 _"Well done, Papa. This town hasn't seen a dull day since." Rebecca, her oldest stepsister said calmly, taking a long sip of her water._

 _Lucy poked her noodles with a fork and sat with slumped shoulders._

 _"Reverend my ass. Man don't even know all the books of the Bible in order." Zachariah, the middle child said. His crooked teeth scraping the edge of the fork as he ate._

 _"Papa's the best damn thing that happened to this sorry town," Moses said, the youngest and, in Lucy's opinion, the most evil of the three._

 _"Shut your traps. God don't pity children talkin' like uneducated sailors."_

 _"Sorry, Papa," they all said, bowing their heads_

 _"That's right," he said, nodding sternly._

 _"You're very wise dear," her mother said, sitting across from Lucy with legs crossed primly and all trace of makeup gone. She gave Lucy a look and squinted her eyes._

 _"The wisest I've yet to meet," Lucy said quietly. Rebecca, mid bite, gave her a snide look. Moses shook his head slightly and Zachariah squinted and tapped his plate with the fork clenched between his meaty, pink fists._

 _"Why, thank you, kindly Lucille," her stepfather said, opening his large mouth for another bite of stir fry, drool running down his chin. "I tell you kids, you best watch out for false prophets. This nose…" he pointed to his unusually large nose and smiled. "…can smell them from a mile away. That's why I confronted Reverend Harris when I did. I dubbed him a phony the day I met him. He was endangering the town, putting blasphemous thoughts into the young peoples' heads." A piece of chicken flew from his mouth and landed on the surface of the table. "Acts of homosexuality are a sin from the devil himself, and anyone who eats accordingly will burn in the depths a' hell." Lucy's stomach burned, ever ounce of energy she had used towards not unleashing hell on that son of a bitch churning against her insides._

 _"Amen," all his children said in unison, the damned robots._

Lucy relaxed her shoulders and unclenched her fists, relieving the tension between her swollen knuckles. Just the mere thought of that racist, homophobic monster made her skin crawl. How she managed to survive five years under his roof was beyond her. She felt her temples pulse and ache, maybe it was time to stray from memory lane for a bit.

Lucy walked some more and found herself in a part of the mansion she had never seen before. Not even on the way of the "shortcut" Casper made them trek through. She sighed and blew a stray hair out of her face. She came across an old book shelf and ran her fingers along the spines of the books. One caught her eye - "Pride and Prejudice", one of her favorite books. She smiled and took it from the shelf. Although very out of place, maybe some light reading could help her move past her troubled past. Much to her surprise however, the shelf began to move and shift, unleashing a cloud of dust right into Lucy's face.

"Woah", she gasped, after a bought of coughing, "a secret bookshelf." She peered at the shelf as it revealed a room on the other side. "Awesome."

She slowly stepped inside and looked around, a little shocked. This wasn't any ordinary room, it was a room covered wall to wall with posters. But not just any posters, posters that depicted Bernadette Peters, Gwen Verdon, Patti LuPone and even one with Ethel Merman. Trophies lined the shelves, and boxes filled to the brim with broadway memorabilia were stacked against the wall. Records of old broadway tracks were everywhere, including signed and _framed_ pictures. This was the most broadway merchandise Lucy had ever seen in one place. Even some operatic pieces could be found if she paid close enough attention.

"Oh," she whispered, "my god."

"This—this _isn't_ what it looks like!" A booming voice exploded from behind Lucy, causing her to nearly wet herself. She screamed and whirled around in a panic. Fatso floated in the doorway with his fists clenched and his face stern. They stood, staring at each other for an uncomfortable amount of time. She could feel the pressure rising in her toes and the tension fill the air. She could also see the anger in Fatso's eyes, but also something else, a redness in his large, chubby cheeks. He was embarrassed. "This is _NOT_ what it looks like!" He yelled again, his voice shaking slightly.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry — I just," Lucy held her breath and scrunched her face up. "I'll—I'll just be going." She started hurriedly towards the door, but on her way out, Fatso grabbed her sleeve and spun her around to face him. She flinched, expecting the worst, but was met with two large, very puppy-like brown eyes. And they were pleading to her.

"Please don't tell my bros," he said frantically. "I'll never hear the end of it!" He tightened his grip on her sleeve and furrowed his brows together desperately.

"Relax, relax," Lucy said slowly, gently pushing his hand away. "I couldn't get your brothers to listen to me, even if I wanted to."

His eyes darted around, as if looking for more intruders, but at Lucy's calm voice his shoulders began to loosen.

"Wait, what are you doing in here?" He said, remembering his anger.

"…um…well…I was jut exploring and I mean…you listen to 'Into The Woods'?" Lucy smiled, holding up a purple record.

"Give me that!" Fatso snatched it out of her hand and breathed on it, rubbing it meticulously with his tail. "You didn't answer my question!"

"Well…you didn't answer mine," Lucy said plainly.

He sighed and grunted. "If you MUST know…" he squinted at her, still suspicious. "It's the best musical arrangement that Stephen Sondheim has written, even considering some of his most famous works." He said proudly, his mouth curving ever so slightly.

Lucy laughed and smiled, out of shock, and put a hand over her mouth.

"Hey, it's not that funny," Fatso cried indignantly, his cheeks reddening again.

"No, no, it's just that I agree," she giggled. "I never took you for a broadway fan, and 'Into the Woods' is one of my favorites!"

Fatso's face lit up with joy.

"I mean, the opening scene? An instant classic! I love how they added commentary on the overprotective and borderline possessive prince instead of the one who saves the day."

"An unpopular opinion in pop culture!" Fatso threw his hands in the air and they laughed together. Soon, a moment of silence passed, but to both their surprises, it wasn't awkward.

"Fatso," Lucy said rubbing her neck. "I had no idea you loved broadway so much," she said, smiling softly.

He shrugged and looked around at his collection.

"Always have, always will. Hell, can't remember a time when I _didn't._ "

Lucy watched as he dusted off some of the old records in the boxes.

"But you can't tell nobody!" He exclaimed, turning to her. "I'll be the damn laughing stock of the house!"

"I bet if you're just honest with them, and tell them how you feel — oh, Fatso I'm sure they'd understand."

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Who are you, Mr. Roger?" He laughed. "No, no, I remember! You're Miss Starr Dazzletush!" He belly laughed and pointed.

Lucy sighed, feeling herself blush. "Yeah, yeah, that's me."

"Obviously, you don't know my bros. I'll never hear the end of it, from here to the afterlife. _This_ ," he pointed between the two of them. "Stays between us." Lucy held out her hand to him. "Deal."

Fatso looked at her hand for a long time and hesitantly shook it.

"I promise I won't tell a soul."

He nodded, satisfied.

"So, where is everyone, anyways?" She asked, looking back at the hallway.

"Friendship's Women's track team had a meet this mornin',' he told her, his tongue hanging out at the thought.

"Ah," she said nodding. "Of course. I should've known. What about…Stinkie?" She asked hesitantly, trying to mask her concern. Fatso's smile faded and he frowned.

"He's M.I.A. no thanks to you, Dazzletush," he crossed his arms and spit out his tongue. "Thanks to you, he wasn't in bed this mornin'. Actin' all high and mighty. What a bozo."

"He's not a _bozo,_ " she corrected him indignantly. " _And_ my name is Lucy. You better start using it, or else everyone will find out about that life-size cutout of Julie Andrews in the corner."

Fatso sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Fine but…since when do you care so much about my bro?"

"I don't—I mean I didn't…" she stuttered, glancing anywhere but at Fatso, who materialized a set of spectacles to place on his nose, along with a pen and notebook. She squinted at him as he gave her a quizzical look.

"Very funny," she said sarcastically. "Lay off the detective moves for a minute, won't you Sherlock?" She said, smiling slightly. "Where even are we, anyway?" She asked, anxious to change the subject.

"Beats me," he shrugged.

Lucy giggled. "Well, I guess we're both lost then. Whatever will we do?" She smiled slyly and pulled out an old videotape recording of "Into The Woods". She held it up and tapped the front with her finger. Fatso looked as though he was about to burst with joy.

"No one has ever asked me to watch one of these bad boys with them before!" His eyes grew large and twinkled.

"Well come on! What're we waiting for? Pop it in!" She handed Fatso the VHS and he snickered loudly.

"That's what she said," he laughed.

"You are such a child," she shook her head as he pushed the power button on an old television resting comfortably on a shelf.

"Thank you, thank you very much," he appeared in Elvis getup and took a few exaggerated bows.

"Just turn on the movie," she said dryly, pulling up an old dusty chair.


	11. Chapter 11: The Snowball Effect

"See, it's one thing," Kat said, still in her flannel panda pjs and slippers, "to have popcorn at movie night. But come on, M&M's and popcorn?" She jumped in front of Lucy stealthily with an excited grin.

"It's like magic!" Casper said, waving his hands in an outward motion.

Soon she was ambushed, both her wide eyed roommates standing (and floating) in front of her, blocking the door.

"Please?" Kat smiled.

"Pretty please with a cherry on top?" Casper added.

Lucy shook her head playfully and smiled.

"Alright, alright," she laughed. "I'll go to the store on my way home."

"Oh, and Lucy, could you pick up a feather duster?" Casper said.

"A feather duster?" She looked at him, perplexed.

"Yeah, Uncle Stinkie shoved the only one we had up his nose, and it got… stuck…" he scratched his arm uncomfortably.

Lucy sighed. "So that's, three boxes of popcorn, two bags of—"

"—Three." Kat said, tilting her head.

Lucy's shoulders dropped. "Three boxes of M&M's and a feather duster." Casper and Kat nodded.

"Add tissues to the list why don't ya?" Stretch's obnoxious voice echoed loudly from behind, followed by the snickers and cackles of his two brothers.

Kat closed her eyes and shook her head.

"Ya might need some for your little chick flick fling tonight, huh?" He laughed, elbowing his brothers for encouragement.

"I'm flying, Jack! I'm really flying!" Fatso and Stinkie quickly mimicked the famous titanic scene.

"Oh no! A fifty foot shark!" Stinkie threw Fatso overboard in a hurry and they laughed together in a pile on the floor.

Kat crossed her arms and scoffed. "Don't you three have anywhere else to be?"

"Where else would we possibly go when we have skin sacks like you to patronize?" Stretch's neck slithered right up to Kat's face.

"Oh, I don't know, the afterlife?"

Halos and wings suddenly appeared on the heads and backs of Stinkie and Fatso, who grinned at each other. Stretch, on the other hand, snarled, his face reddening in anger.

"Newsflash kitty Kat, we already in hell," he said cunningly.

She furrowed her brow. "Funny, me too."

"Ooh, hurricane Katrina takes the lead with one point!" Fatso made his tail into an intercom while his voice boomed like a radio host.

"Hey shut up, you big ball of bleach!" Stretch spat.

"Um…excuse me?" Lucy squeaked.

The trio, Casper and Kat turned to her mousy voice immediately.

"I'm just…gonna go now," she grimaced and grabbed the door handle. "Does anyone else need anything from the store?"

"Be a dear and get me a box of chamomile tea," Fatso said plainly.

This time all eyes were on him.

"What? You know I can't sleep without it!" He said defensively.

"That is so stupid, you hurt my head, you big dope!" Stretch reached and made a hammer out of long outstretched arm and whacked Fatso.

Lucy flattened her lips and nodded, scrambling out of the door as fast she could.

"Remember not to get in the car with any fleshie you don't know!" Stretch called, materializing a rather matronly polka dot skirt.

"Look both ways before you cross the street, dear!" Fatso followed.

"And remember you can only get one candy bar from the store, you don't want to spoil your dinner!" Stinkie cried.

"They grow up so fast." They all cooed.

Lucy was halfway down to the large and forbidding gate before she could block out the sounds of the dreaded trio's chaotic laughter. Even with her headphones on full blast, clinging to her ears like a lake leech. She tapped a few buttons on her beaten up mp3 and began to quicken her pace as she closed the gate behind her. She let out a sigh of relief upon leaving the Whipstaff property.

Upon hitting the sidewalk, she felt the pavement grind under her large boots and the cool breeze brush her pale cheeks. Even though she'd made amends with Stinkie and Fatso, and Kat and Casper had quickly become very dear to her heart, being shut up in the big dusty mansion made her feel claustrophobic at best. So, she looked forward to her weekly walk around Friendship, admiring the old architect of every old church and the crack covered sidewalks. It really was beautiful, in all it's simplicity, and Lucy—almost for a split second— thought she could envision herself living here.

But that thought quickly passed when an oncoming jogger abruptly bumped her shoulder. At Lucy's gasp, she looked back mid-pace and smirked. Lucy's face burned and she clenched her fists. With tilt of the head, a nearby sprinkler suddenly sprang to life, showering the woman from head to toe.

"Oops," Lucy said, smiling to herself.

Lucy resumed her slow-paced venture and put her hands in her pockets. She couldn't ignore the faint jab in her ankle—her wand wedged uncomfortably between her foot and boot. She hated having to hide it in such blister-provoking places lately, but she couldn't leave it at the house even under the watchful eye of Kat and Casper. For there were three pairs of eyes with stealthy and grabby hands whom under no circumstances, could have in their possession. She shivered at the mere thought. But it was her time, her quiet time to reflect and get some much needed exercise. And maybe get those M&M's Kat asked for.

Back at the mansion, Kat and Casper had gone off to do whatever it is those two got up to on a daily basis, and Stretch glided into his favorite, dysfunctional fleshie's office and plopped down onto his back; slouching against the purple sofa. He waited impatiently for his brothers to come soaring in, accompanied by their endless cackles, but they didn't. Only Dr. Harvey's kind face and usual dorky sweater vest came waltzing in, straightening his glasses on his large nose.

Stretch sat up quickly and squinted, feeling a shortage of courage and comfort. He watched closely as Dr. Harvey toddled around and whistled a light tune. He gathered a few papers and sat down comfortably in his big, important, therapist chair, crossing one leg.

"Morning." He said with a smile in a calm tone. Stretch didn't like this one bit. He felt uneasy and targeted. Vulnerable you might say.

"What the hell is dis?" He asked in an accusatory tone scrunching up his face.

"A therapy session." Dr. Harvey said innocently, raising his eyebrows.

"No shit Sherlock," he spat. "I mean why am I sittin' here all my my damn lone self?"

"Does that make you uncomfortable?" He asked.

"Wha—no, of course not!" He crossed his arms and stuck his large nose straight up into the air. "I mean, not that I don't enjoy our little 'sessions'…" he snickered thinking back to all the pranks and one sided laughs they'd shared at the doctor's expense. "…but I got cigars that won't smoke themselves in da parlor—" he began to get up but Dr. Harvey picked up a large chart and held it up before he could leave.

Stretch suspended himself in the air for a few minutes and examined it with a blank look on his face. "What's dis?" He asked.

"The Feelings Chart. Please," Dr. Harvey gestured for him to take a seat back on the couch.

Stretch—slowly and suspiciously— lowered himself from the air and sat back down.

"Now, tell me how you're feeling today."

"Dis whole thing is stupid. I ain't no mental patient!" He frowned and watched Dr. Harvey write something down. Feeling uneasy, he took another glance at the chart. "Three, I guess." He crossed his arms.

"Three?" Dr. Harvey looked at the chart.

"No, six!" He said, frantically.

"Six?" Dr. Harvey clarified.

"Seven! Er—eight!"

"You only have to pick one, you know."

"Well I can't do that with you breathin' down my neck, now can I?" Stretch snapped.

"You're in control of your emotions, Stretch. No one can decide them for you," Dr. Harvey said calmly.

Stretch felt his shoulders drop and his temples soften. They tightened back up again just as quickly.

"I know that!"

"Are you always this defensive?" Dr. Harvey asked quietly.

"Are you always this annoying?" Stretch quipped back. "Speakin' of annoying, I got a joke for ya!" He snickered.

Dr. Harvey shrugged.

"How many therapists does it take to screw in a lightbulb?" He said, holding back laughter.

"One." Dr. Harvey said plainly. "But the lightbulb has to be willing to change." He held a finger in the air.

"You're a real ball of fun ain't ya, Doc?" Stretch grumbled in response.

"Can we continue with our session, please?"

Stretch thought of a come back, but decided to remain silent. It wasn't as much fun without his brothers to back him up anyway.

"So tell me, what emotion are you identifying with today?" He asked. Stretch took a closer look at the chart.

"Two."

"Relaxed?" Dr. Harvey said, surprised. He pointed to the matching face, a light blue one with sunglasses.

"I was thinkin' more, cool as a cucumber. But I guess that woiks too," he shrugged.

"I'm picking up on more of a guarded facade today, Stretch. You seem nervous."

His words made Stretch's neck burn uncomfortably. He was nervous, hungry, and craving a smoke.

"Am not!" He said.

"See, there go your defenses again, stronger and more stubborn than the Great Wall of China." He leaned in closer. "Stretch, it's perfectly normal to be nervous."

"… It is?" He asked, slowly unfolding his arms.

"Of course! Confrontation makes you nervous, I see. And without your brothers here to aid you and build a wall between you and reality, you're vulnerable. And you can't stand feeling vulnerable can you, Stretch?" He asked.

For the first time in perhaps all of his afterlife, Stretch was silent. No witty comebacks, no jokes being cracked, just a vulnerable soul in a big lonely mansion.

"You fear commitment, crossing over. Allowing yourself to have a better afterlife and have some level of peace." He said.

Stretch just sat, staring at his fingers and the floor that showed through them. "But most of all, you're afraid of you own emotions."

He felt pain from somewhere deep. The thought of that bothered him, for some reason. But who cares?

He rose up into the air quickly, catching Dr. Harvey off guard.

"I'm not the one chasing after someone who's been dead for seven years, huh? I'm not some miserable, condescending bone bag! And I ain't scared of emotions! Not now, not ever. I think it's time you threw the towel in Doc, cause we ain't goin' nowhere and you can't make us!" With that, Stretch bolted out the door like a tornado, blowing all the papers and books off shelves.

He flew out the front door in huff and felt as though he were on fire. His eyes burned and his tail was throbbing. And oddly enough, so was his ego.

It was almost four by the time Lucy had concluded her walk and headed back in the direction of the manor. She walked out of the convenience store with a box of M&M's, a feather duster, and Fatso's tea. She hummed a light tune and walked, just like every other day of her time spent in Friendship, Maine. As she drew closer to the house she noticed a fork in the road, one that she assumed led to an alternate route, maybe one that would lengthen her alone time. She stepped lightly and walked through a clearing lined with rocks where the shore brought small waves of dark blue water over them. There were docks accompanied by boats and sails, and the faint smell of fish started to make her nose crinkle. But it reminded her of when she and her dad used to go fishing, so she welcomed the smell with open arms. She just hoped the inhabitants at Whipstaff would too.

She closed her eyes and stood, letting the breeze pick up her hair and sting her eyes. Hands in her pockets, she listened to the seagulls and distant horns, making her feel at ease.

For all but one moment. The wind started to pick up, and the seagulls began to flurry and cry out in discomfort. Lucy opened her eyes, but not soon enough. A grey tornado hurtled towards her and knocked her down flat onto dock. She looked up, bewildered, and wished she'd never taken the scenic route in the first place. Stretch's angry, purple eyes were glaring into her's, and she felt a rush of blood go to her head instantly.

"You," he growled. "Of all places to stick your nose, you had to stick it here? In my house, with all ya shit?" He snapped.

Bewildered, she scrambled to her feet. "Stretch, please I—"

"You know I've had just about enough of your pale sack of flesh sticking it's nose where it doesn't belong!" He yelled, clenching his fists.

Lucy felt panic rising in her throat as he started to yell. She found her voice, but took several steps away from Stretch. "Okay, you know that's not fair because—"

"—Another fleshie! Just what we needed! Eating my food, stealin' away my brother, and sleepin' in her bed!" The color that had been rising in his cheeks vanished as soon as those words escaped his lips. He froze, and turned an icy, cold blue.

Lucy was silent, not daring to move.

His chest moved up and down in a frantic motion, like he was of breath. They both remained in silence for a moment, and the atmosphere around them seemed to change.

"…Who's 'her'?" Lucy asked quietly.

Stretch looked just as confused as she was, and his shoulders drooped in defeat. He stuttered for a moment and glanced around, like he was looking for backup. He turned back to Lucy, looking genuinely bewildered.

"I—" a look of intense concentration suddenly crossed Stretch's face, as if he were trying to remember something important. Lucy thought he looked constipated, and she pondered for a moment if ghosts even could get constipated.

He looked as if he were about to say something, but the sound of a sudden, small, cry interrupted him. It was timid and frail, but just loud enough to catch the attention of both of them.

Stretch shook his head and frowned at Lucy. He inched closer with a look of pure anger in his large purple eyes. He poked her in the chest. "You got no business here, you stuck up, bag of bones."

Lucy curled her lip, starting to get more angry than afraid.

"I never asked for any of this to happen! Or to be the newest victim of your constant tormenting!" Her voice began to rise. "I think," she said with a snarl on her face, "that you're the one who has no business being here."

"Why you little—" he rose above her, and Lucy flinched back instinctively.

The cry rang in the air once again and Stretch turned abruptly towards the sound, clenching his fists.

"What da hell is that damn noise?"

Grateful for the distraction, Lucy stepped toward the sound and looked over the edge of the dock. Bobbing in the water was a small fishing boat, crusted with grime and barnacles. In the center, a kitten lay tangled in a fishing net, its mouth opened wide in a silent cry.

"What's dis?" Stretch asked in a completely different voice. He lowered himself to the edge of the boat, all traces of anger gone.

"We have to call for help!" Lucy said frantically, feeling panic rise in her chest again.

Stretch edged closer to the kitten, outstretching his arm as if to stroke it. At his approach, the kitten began mewling loudly, as if crying for help.

"It's okay, don't worry," he said softly.

Was he…comforting it? Lucy stared in shock as he began gently untangling the kitten from the netting. "This 'lil guy is in pretty bad shape," he murmured, setting the kitten on the dock to get the last bit of rope free.

Indeed it was. Lucy bent down to get a closer look, talking gently to it as Stretch worked at the net. Wet fur clung tightly to its tiny frame, making it look smaller than ever. One eye was closed tight, and the other stared cloudily back at her. Lucy thought it looked around three months old, and she wondered briefly if there were others about.

She stepped away from the two of them, feeling strangely like she could trust Stretch not to cause any mischief for once.

When she was out of earshot, she stopped to look around. "Vitae Revelio," she murmured quietly, so Stretch wouldn't hear. The area grew grey as she scanned the docks and boats with sharp eyes. Brightly shining silhouettes flashed in the water and in the air—seagulls and fish. Tiny glowing specks signaled the presence of insects flitting about. She glanced back at Stretch and the kitten, one a tiny glowing lump and the other a tall, strangely flickering form. She sighed. No more signs of life nearby; either its owner abandoned it, or it got separated from its mother and siblings. She blinked three times, and her vision went back to normal.

"I can't find anymore cats, I think its all alone," Lucy said sadly, stepping back over to Stretch.

"Well 'o course he's all alone, look at 'ow scared he is!" Stretch shot her an irritated glance before tossing the net back into the boat. He bent back down and showed the kitten his fingers, gently coaxing it over.

Lucy watched in amazement as the kitten slowly made its way, wobbling as it put weight on its back leg, to Stretch's hand. It sniffed his fingers and let out another small cry. Stretch's gaze softened and he gently lifted it into his arms, rising into the air.

"Wait," Lucy pulled off her jacket and handed it to Stretch, who gave her a suspicious look.

"It's for the kitten," Lucy sighed. "He's probably cold, and your hands—"

"—'Nuff said," he stopped her short and took the jacket from her, carefully swaddling the kitten so that its little head poked out. "C'mon, let's take it back to da house."

They set off in the direction of the mansion in an awkward silence. Lucy was surprised to notice Stretch keeping pace with her, but she watched her feet as they walked, hands stuffed into her pockets. She was still a little shaken up from their argument, and didn't know how to broach the subject. Besides, this was a side of Stretch she'd never seen before, and had no idea how to handle it. He really was capable of kindness, so why was he such a jerk all the time?

She shot a glance at him. "Do you…do you think he'll be alright?"

"It's a, uh, she," he spoke up.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, 'dere's a certain double act missing from the pahty."

Lucy giggled, despite herself, and she thought she saw Stretch flash a genuine grin at her.

"We just need ta get 'er fed, I'm sure she'll be up and at 'em after a good night's rest." Stretch stroked the bridge of the kitten's nose.

"Good thing Dr. Harvey got more milk this morning, Stinkie drank a whole carton last night," Lucy couldn't help but smile at the thought.

Stretch scoffed. "Usually he waits 'till it spoils but I guess 'e need 'is midnight fix."

"Pfft. Yeah."

They fell into silence once more, and Lucy was relieved when they reached the mansion's steps. "Okay, you get the kitten inside and get her warm. I'll go find a first aid kit, it looked like she was having trouble standing on all four legs. One might be sprained or something."

"Uh, yeah. Sure 'ting."

Lucy went immediately to the bathroom and began rummaging around in the cabinet for the first aid kit Dr. Harvey mandated was necessary. She felt she had to agree with him. "Bandages, bandages, bandages," she muttered to herself as she pushed aside ointments and disinfectants. "Yes, perfect," she lifted the gauze out and ran a washcloth under some warm water to help clean the kitten's face from grime. She privately wished she could use a healing charm on her leg, but judging by the way Stretch was holding her she didn't think she could separate the two. She dashed out of the bathroom and ran down the stairs, jumping the last step. Was she right to leave them alone together? She had no idea where Stinkie and Fatso were, and she didn't like the idea of all three of them taking charge of a helpless kitten.

"Stretch?" She called out worriedly, her voice echoing off the walls.

She heard the distinct cry from the kitten coming from the parlor, and burst open the doors.

"Stretch don't you dare—" she stopped dead in her tracks.

Stretch was sitting on the couch holding the kitten and rocking it back and forth, gently holding a bottle of milk to her mouth.

"Shh!" He said in a harsh whisper. "You'll scare da poor thing!"

"S-sorry," she made her way over with the cloth and bandages.

"She's holdin' on best she can," he said quietly, gazing softly at the kitten.

Lucy felt her shoulders relax at the look on his face. "Where'd you find a bottle?"

"Casper's old things," he said without looking up.

"Here, let me wipe her face," she bent down.

"Okay, but jus' be careful," he shot her a warning look.

"I will, I promise."

Stretch nodded and lifted the bottle.

"Hey there, sweet girl," Lucy said quietly as she wiped the dried mud from her soft face. "There's a white cat under here, somewhere," she murmured as the kitten mewled at her. To Lucy's surprise the kitten still hadn't opened its left eye. She gently thumbed the lid to get a closer look.

"Don' bahther," Stretch said quietly. "She's only got the one."

"Oh," Lucy gasped softly. She lifted the blanket and gave her a good wipe-down, then bandaged her hind leg as Stretch held her up.

"There we go, good as new," Lucy smiled. "Better give her some more of that milk," she laughed, as the kitten pawed at the bottle in Stretch's other hand.

"Slow down there girl, or you'll be as bad as Stink," Stretch readjusted her to make her more comfortable and brought the bottle back to her muzzle.

"You're…doing a really good job with her," Lucy offered kindly.

"Yeah well…I ain't that heartless," he avoided eye contact, keeping his gaze fixed on the kitten.

"Could have fooled me," Lucy said jokingly, laughing nervously.

He glanced up, looking guiltily to the side. "Look, um, Lucy…" he began.

"Yeah?"

"I'm…I'm sorry for yellin' at ya…you didn't deserve 'dat," he was still glancing nervously around, clearly out of his element.

"Stretch…" Lucy said softly. "I—" he remained silent. "I know all this has been weird. Thank you for apologizing…I forgive you." Lucy looked at her feet and rubbed her arm bashfully.

He looked up and his face softened. "Er—" he stuttered, at a loss for words. "Don' worry 'bout it," he mumbled.

Lucy smiled and sat down on the couch next to him, smiling at the hungry kitten.

"She's a cutie," Lucy cooed.

"Yeah she is," Stretch said, smiling.

Taken back by how genuine his smile was, she felt emboldened. "Can I?" She held out her arms.

Stretch squinted at her. "Don't be gettin' your fleshie germs all over her. She's fragile," he eyed Lucy closely.

That was more like the Stretch she knew. "Don't worry, my hands are clean." She put her hand over her heart solemnly.

After a moment of consideration, Stretch handed her the kitten.

"Careful 'wid her, she's just a baby."

Lucy cradled her in her arms and smiled.

"She's so small," Lucy whispered.

"I know, I's afraid I'd crush her," he said, crossing his arms. "Den I remembahed that I have no muscle mass."

Lucy gave him a look.

"But you better believe these bad boys were the sheriff and deputy of Massachusetts in my lifetime," he said, flexing his nonexistent muscles.

"Oh, I'm sure. Had all the ladies wrapped around your slimy finger, didn't you?" She said sarcastically.

"You know it baby!" He said with a smug grin.

Lucy rolled her eyes. After a moment of silence, Lucy looked towards Stretch who was twiddling his thumbs.

"Whata you lookin' at?" He asked defensively.

"Oh nothing, nothing," she smiled, rocking the kitten back and forth. "I just never took you for such a softie."

"I ain't no softie!" He puffed his chest up, hands on his hips "You better watch your mouth, skin sack!" He said.

"You can drop the tough guy act, you're brothers aren't around," she said calmly.

Stretch made many attempts to reply but each one failed. He sat in a slump and pouted to himself.

"I think you secretly have feelings," she said, looking at him softly.

He sat up a little and uncrossed his arms. "What do you know about my feelings?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Big tough guys like you don't just come to the rescue of cute little kittens. The Stretch I know would've laughed and kicked sand in her face."

He tightened his lips, as if affronted by the very thought.

"Maybe ya don't know me as well as you think ya do." He stuck up his nose. "Christ ya such a know-it-all. All ya damn fleshes think ya know everything just cause ya have a pulse," he said shaking his head.

"Well, you haven't exactly given me reason to think there's more to you than just piss and vinegar. Besides, maybe you don't know people as well as you think you do."

Stretch was silent.

"People are complicated, they're not all the same," she said.

"Oh don't play games wid me!" He said. "All ya fleshies are the same. Boring, stupid sacks of flesh."

Lucy sighed. "I wonder what happened to you when you were alive to make you so cold and mean."

"Well dat's none of ya damn business now is it?" He said.

"No, I'm just a boring, nosey sack of flesh right?" Lucy squinted.

"Bingo," he said, leaning back and smoothing his head.

"Now, gimmie back Snowball," he abruptly reached for the kitten.

"Snowball?" Lucy couldn't help but laugh.

"I mean da kitten!" He said, the color returning to his cheeks.

Lucy handed her back to him, and he cradled her gently in the crook of his arm.

"Snowball," she grinned again.

"Hey shut ya yap would ya?" He said defensively.

"No need to snap. I think it's perfect," she said kindly.

"You—you do?" He asked, meeting her glance. His demeanor was calmer than before.

"Absolutely," she said chuckling.

Stretch smiled softly and glanced back at the kitten.

"Snowball it is den."

Lucy smiled.

"Ya know," he said awkwardly. "You ain't so bad."

Lucy raised her eyebrows.

"For a fleshie," he interjected quickly.

Lucy smiled and shook her head.

"You're not so bad either. For a cranky ghost." It was at this point Lucy really noticed the lack of tension in the air, and for the first time she fully relaxed in Stretch's presence. Things were changing, that was for damn sure.


End file.
